So Much For My Happy Ending?
by tonygirl
Summary: Whoever volunteers to participate in a war - or a police action - or whatever it is - deserves what she gets. Right? OC, so if you don't like 'em, don't read it. My first fanfic, so be gentle! Rated T for later adult-type themes.
1. Chapter 1

As you probably have already figured out, I do not own, nor will I ever own, anything to do with MASH. If I did, I'd be sitting in the Bahamas with five well-muscled men feeding me rum-flavored drinks!

Yes, I may have some factual errors with the show, mainly with minor characters. Don't hate me for it . . . . or hate me for it. Whatever. Keeps life interesting!

Now, on with the show!

************************************

Jessie held on to the side of the dirty jeep for dear life. Although they weren't speeding, the ruts and turns in the road made her feel like her insides were being flipped out of place.

"Um . . .Sergeant?" she yelled into the wind, grabbing at her duffle as it was almost slung into a ditch, "You think you could perhaps slow down just a bit?"

"Sorry ma'am, no can do." He glanced over his right shoulder at his passenger. "North Koreans have been sighted in the area and an attack's going on in the next sector. If we slow down, snipers can get a better whack at us."

Jessie paled and swallowed. She didn't reply, but did find herself trying to peek into the fields and trees on either side as they flew crazily down the road. She realized that it wasn't potholes, but holes where artillery had previously exploded.

_Callahan, what have you done?_

If the condition of the road was any indication, Jessie knew that her destination probably would not be anything on this side of habitable.

She was right. As they flew underneath the sign – "MASH 4077 Best Care Anywhere" she hurriedly read, - the drabness of the place struck her first. Everything was the same ugly olive green that her uniform, the jeep and her duffle bag. The only spots of color were people in white coats rushing around checking people lying on the ground.

And the blood. You couldn't miss it.

The jeep squealed to a stop right next to a blonde effortlessly giving orders. The woman jumped at the noise and jerked towards the Sergeant.

"Watch where you're going you buffoon!" she practically screamed. She didn't wait for a reply but focused her steely eyes on Jessie, who was trying to gather her wits and her baggage.

"You!"

Jessie saw the clusters on the nurse's uniform and jumped.

The nurse didn't wait for her to reply. "Get to pre-op and scrub!"

Jessie, still standing in the jeep, saluted the major as was drilled in her head when she joined the Army. "Yes, ma'am!" She turned to lug at her duffle bag.

"Forgot that, and get going!" the Major yelled.

Obediently, Jessie stopped what she was doing and jumped from the jeep.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, I'll make sure your gear gets stored," the Sergeant whispered as Jessie ran by. He smiled and winked at her, and she found herself smiling back. "Good luck." He never could resist a pretty girl.

"Thanks," Jessie said over her shoulder. "I think I'll need it."

During the next 16 hours, Jessie seriously doubted her sanity of leaving her pampered life for this place. She was assigned to a fairly nice doctor in surgery, for which she was glad. Her nursing skills consisted of six weeks of training by the Army and many a night spent up with a flashlight under the blanket going over and over nursing handbooks. Patience was appreciated.

"Scalpel," Hunnicutt ordered.

Jessie grabbed it and stuck it in his blood-covered hand.

"So, you're new here at the OK Corral, aren't you?"

Jessie handed him so 4-0 silk, watching his work intently. "I actually just got here, and a Major put me right to work."

"Ah, yes. That must be Major Margaret 'Hotlips' Houlihan, star of stage, screen and OR."

"Hotlips?" she whispered, mainly because the Major was standing nearby. No need making the boss mad.

"Just a little nickname she has earned for herself at our humble abode. Not that I would know, of course."

"Why wouldn't you know, Captain?" Jessie asked, watching him expertly sew up a wound. Jessie figured he could have his pick of women.

"Because I am happily married to a wonderful girl in Mill Valley, California. And my father named me B.J., not Captain."

"Ah, monogamy," a dark-haired surgeon at the next table said flippantly. "Such a lonely existence in such a world filled with lovely young ladies."

"Pierce, would you shut up!" Major Houlihan ordered. "I happen to find married life quite wonderful."

Pierce rolled his eyes. "How soon we forget, since you certainly never let us." He received an angry stare in return.

"I happen to find nothing wrong with monogamy," Jessie joined in. "Worked just fine for my parents." All the banter in the room surprised her, but she found it kept her from thinking about her aching feet.

"Well, Pierce, I guess that leaves you out of the picture," another surgeon called from across the room, rather arrogantly.

Pierce just laughed and looked at Jessie. "You say that now, sweetheart, but just wait until after this session is over."

Jessie's eyes widened at the sight of blood shooting from a patient. The arrogant surgeon cursed and stemmed the flow of blood.

"Wh-what's going to happen after this is over?" she asked, looking away from the scene and focusing on B.J.'s patient.

The scene there wasn't much better.

B.J. was methodically digging shrapnel out of some poor kid's stomach. Jessie swallowed and tried to pretend that they were dummies they practiced on in the States.

"Why, you are going to have a private welcome to the 4077th, complete with wine, champagne and myself." He finished sewing. "Hey, I need another lucky contestant!" he called to the orderlies, who immediately came rushing in.

"I'd rather not, Hawkeye" Jessie retorted, handing B.J. some more silk. She had heard about the infamous Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce's ways while at the 8063rd and wouldn't touch _that_ with a 10 foot pole! She was finished with womanizers.

"Hey, how'd you know?" Hawkeye asked, focusing on her with his dark blue eyes. "I thought you were new here."

"You're reputation precedes you, Doctor."

Hawkeye smiled. Although it was hidden by his mask, Jessie could see it in his eyes. "That's too bad. I've always had a thing for redheads."

Before Jessie could reply, Major Houlihan did. "Colonel Potter, please tell Pierce to stop corrupting my nurses before they're even here 24 hours!" she shrilled. "And stop all this chatter while you're at it!"

"Major, it looks to me like he's crashed and burned with this one, so just let him suffer in silence," an older doctor nearby replied, winking at Jessie, who was relieved. The last thing she needed was to get in trouble with the obviously strict head nurse. "We still have some paperwork to finish filling out, Lt. Callahan, so come by my office as soon as this round is over."

"Yes sir," Jessie replied. So far, everyone seemed fairly nice.

_Maybe this won't be so bad after all._

_********************************************_

Jessie had never been so tired in her life. Because she was new, she was assigned to post-op immediately after surgery, which gave her another 8 hours on her feet. The doctor on duty with her was the arrogant one from surgery, Charles Emerson Winchester the Third. He never left off The Third. Mainly, all he did was grumble, and Jessie stayed out of his way. Nurses Kelleye and Bigelow, who were also in post-op, told her that he had only been here about a month and was still none too happy about it.

Thank goodness the nurses were nice.

"So, where did you work before the war?" Kellye asked as they did their rounds.

"I, well, I um - wasn't."

"Did you just finish nursing school?" Kellye checked the bandage on a patient.

"Well, not exactly," Jessie replied, massaging her sore neck with her fingers. "Everything I know, I learned in six weeks."

Kelleye's eyes widened. "Six weeks! Wow!" Jessie glanced at her and expected the nurse to be a little skeptical. "You know, I never would have guessed."

Jessie didn't realize she was holding her breath, waiting for an answer. She also didn't realize how much she wanted these people to like her.

_And not like me for my money._

"Well, it's not like a huge amount of talent is needed for this kind of surgery, anyway." She had been told that time and time again, but didn't believe it. Until today. "I also helped out at a veterinarian's office when I was growing up, even assisting in some surgeries." Jessie smiled, thinking about the whiskered Dr. Bennett. "Since there're more horses and cattle in Texas than people, his services were in demand."

"Hey, I'm from Texas, too!" Bigelow said from behind Jessie. "San Antonio." She held out her hand, and Jessie shook it.

"Dallas." Jessie sighed. "I already miss it."

"Yeah, me too. What made you decide to join the Army? Why not go to nursing school instead?"

_Mainly because my father would have yanked me out of nursing school once he found out, but all the money in the world couldn't fight the US of A. And then there was Mark. . ._

"I just wanted to do something more, to be useful." She glanced around the bustling post-op. "I hope I didn't get in over my head."

"You'll do fine," Kelleye said. "You've already passed the test of staying away from our illustrious Hawkeye Pierce."

"Yeah, you're doing better than I did," Bigelow said, rolling her eyes. "Wasn't here for 48 hours before I fell for _that_." The three nurses laughed.

The next shift came in to take over, and Jessie realized how tired she was. But she wasn't finished yet. She trudged towards the door, but discovered she didn't know exactly where Col. Potter's office was. She turned, but Kelleye and Bigelow were gone. However, Charles was still giving Hawkeye a run-down of the patients for his shift.

Jessie chose grumpiness instead of lasciviousness.

"Excuse me, Major?" she asked as Charles turned towards the door. "Could you tell me where Col. Potter's office is?"

He turned to face her. Surprisingly, he smiled, his eyes appraising her kindly. "Just go through that door over there, and you'll be in the clerk's office."

Jessie, slightly taken aback by his friendliness, smiled back. "Thank you, Major," she said and maneuvered her way back through post op.

Charles watched her go.

_Something about her is so familiar, but I can't place her._ _I've never set foot in Texas, thank God, so I really don't know why . . . _

"Nice view, isn't it, Chuckles?" Hawkeye leered.

"Thank God your boorish behavior isn't contagious, or we'd all be in trouble."

**************************************************

Jessie hoped the paperwork wouldn't be too much. She didn't think she could keep her eyes open much longer. Plus, she didn't even know where her tent was. Or her things, for that matter. She quickened her step as she pushed through the door, thinking the faster she could get this over with, the sooner she could get some sleep.

Unfortunately, someone else was also coming through the door from the other side. Papers flew everywhere as they skidded to a stop.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She stepped back abruptly, kneeling down to pick up the forms that were fluttering about.

"Col. Potter tells me I need to slow down sometimes, but I . . ." He trailed off as their hands touched while grabbing for the same errant sheet.

Jessie, embarrassed from the incident, glanced at him as he watched her intently. "Um . . . hi. I was just bringing you these papers to fill out."

"I was just coming in here to fill them out."

So far, neither one of them had moved, both still kneeling on the floor.

But, through his dirty Army-issue glasses, Jessie thought he had the kindest eyes she had ever seen.

The door on the other side of the room flew open. "Radar! I can't find my blasted pen anywhere!" Col. Potter sputtered.

They both jumped.

"Sorry, sir, it's in my desk. You wanted me to find a way to refill the ink," the Corporal said, breaking his and Jessie's gaze and gathering up the rest of the papers. "Oh, by the way, this is the new nurse we requested." He shuffled over to his desk, and motioned towards her, blushing.

Jessie picked herself up from the floor and saluted.

"At ease. Yes, I saw you in surgery today, err, yesterday," Col. Potter said, eyeing his company clerk, who seemed unusually engrossed in putting his paperwork in order. "Good work."

She relaxed. "Thank you, sir. I don't think I had much of a choice but to get to work once Major Houlihan got hold of me."

Col. Potter chuckled. "Yes, she's our little spitfire, that one." He turned to the Corporal, still engrossed in his paperwork. "Radar, I need . . ."

"Here's the Lieutenant's paperwork, sir, and here's your pen. Since you have a meeting to attend, she can fill out the paperwork in here."

"Err, right," Col. Potter said, handing the paperwork to a startled Jessie.

The corporal pulled out a chair at a messy desk, sweeping piles of paperwork into a basket on his desk. Jessie realized that it was for her and obediently sat. He mumbled something about the supply tent and practically ran out the door, leaving her alone. She watched the door swing a minute_. _

_Did he really just read the Colonel's mind?_

She shook her head and started the arduous task of completing Army paperwork.

After half an hour, Jessie finally filled out all the information the Army decided it had to have. Before she could sign the last form in triplicate, the door swung open, and Radar walked in whistling with an arm full of papers. He immediately stopped, startled, when he saw her.

"Oh, I thought you would be finished," he said, laying the stacks down at the corner of his desk. He thrust his hands in his pockets.

"I am now," she said, dotting the last _i _on her name. She laid down the pen and stood up, sticking out her hand. They were about the same height. Hesitantly, he took her hand.

"Since we haven't been formally introduced, I'm Jessie. Sorry again about the door incident."

He smiled. "I'm Walter, but everyone calls me Radar. And that's OK. I should have looked where I was going." They stood with their hands clasped for a moment. Realization dawning, he pulled away and saluted her.

Jessie burst out laughing. "Oh, please don't!" she said between giggles. "I sure didn't ask to be an officer, even a lowly lieutenant."

He relaxed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, curious about what had happened earlier. "I honestly don't think I have ever met anyone that knows what others will say."

Radar blushed. "I've just always been able to know what people are going to say before they say it," he said, shrugging. "Sometimes I even hear what they don't say."

"Really?"

"Really."

Jessie studied him for a moment. "Everyone?"

"Mostly. Oh, but not you. I - wouldn't want to pry or anything."

Jessie got a good laugh at that one. But, all of the activity over the past day finally caught up with her. She had been up for over 24 hours and had come to the end of her rope.

Radar, ever the physic, reached out to grab her arm as she paled.

"I'm sorry, I should have realized you've been up that long," he said, setting her down on the edge of a cot.

Jessie was too tired to realize he had read her mind, despite his earlier claim.

"Let me go see if your tent is ready." He bustled out the door.

He returned 15 minutes later. "There wasn't any room in the nurses' tent, so you'll have a small tent to yourself, but since you're an officer, that's. . .," he stopped in the doorway. Jessie was curled up on his cot, sound asleep. He smiled and gathered up the blanket at the end of cot, laying it carefully on her, as she began to snore.

"Hey, Radar, where's that morphine?" Hawkeye called, marching through the door way. "Oh, ho, what have we here?" He crossed his arms and rolled back on his heels. "Radar, did you know you have a sleeping woman in your bed?"

Radar jumped back with a guilty look on his face. Even though he didn't really have anything to be guilty about. Jessie didn't even stir. "Shhh, you'll wake her up! I left her in here to see if her tent was ready, and she fell asleep." Radar rambled. He reached under the pile of papers he had brought in and handed a box labeled "Morphine" to Hawkeye as he talked.

Hawkeye watching Radar amusedly, took the box from the corporal. "So, where will you sleep? In the nurses' tent?"

Radar gave Hawkeye a dirty look.

Hawkeye shrugged. "Just a thought."

"I have work to do anyway," he said and sat down at his desk.

Hawkeye, knowing he had been dismissed, chuckled to himself as he sauntered back into post-op.


	2. Chapter 2

It does get serious way, WAY down the road, but for now, enjoy my lovely fluff! Thanks for the reviews!

******************************************

Jessie woke up stiff and sore and wondering where she was.

_Oh yeah, Army, Korea, 4077__th__. _

Testing all her joints, she stretched. Looking around, she realized she was still in Radar's office, but he was no where to be found. The clock on the wall said 6, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She was due in post-op at 8. Her stomach grumbled, signaling that her last real food was eaten on the long plane ride from the states.

Rising from the cot, she spotted herself in a mirror on the other side of the room. Her hair was a mess, and she hadn't showered in two days. Gingerly sniffing underneath her arms, she decided it wasn't that bad and shrugged.

_My father would be appalled. _

A gaggle of nurses came out of post-op talking amongst themselves.

"Hey, Dallas!" one of them called out. "I'm Stacey and this is Chris and you've met Sara Bigelow," Stacey said to a bewildered Jessie. "You must be starving, come with us!" Jessie found herself being pushed towards the door in a whirlwind of chatter.

Before they reached the mess tent she found out that Stacey was engaged, Chris was dating someone from the motor pool and Bigelow was still after Hawkeye before she was even seated with her plate.

"So, you have anyone special in your life?" Stacey asked, her brown eyes watching Jessie over her coffee cup as she took a sip and shuddered at the taste.

Radar, sitting at the next table with a plate piled high with food, stopped chewing as he strained to hear Jessie's answer.

Jessie picked at a pile of what looked like cauliflower, but was actually supposed to be scrambled eggs.

"Not anymore," she replied, taking a small bite. She was so hungry that she decided it didn't taste too bad and dug right in.

No one noticed Radar's shoulders slump in relief at her answer. He had actually already looked at her file to see if she was married. But the Army didn't require it's applicants to mention boyfriends.

"What happened?" Bigelow asked as all the nurses - and Radar - gathered closer.

"Well, we were engaged, and I found him in bed with a maid, err, friend." _Watch it, Jess. _"So, as you can guess, we're no longer engaged." She started on what was supposed to be bacon.

Bigelow whistled. "Boy, what a jerk!" The other nurses nodded in agreement.

"Hey, Radar, if you lean in any closer, you're going to be sitting in the middle of their table!" Hawkeye called from across the room.

Radar jumped back and glared at him as he and B.J. sat down with the nurses. "And how are all my pretties doing this lovely morning?"

Stacey punched him on the arm. "Better if you'd go out with Bigelow, so I don't have to listen to her bitch."

Bigelow gasped as the other nurses, including Jessie, laughed.

"Well, how 'bout tonight? Heard they're showing 'Attack of the Blob, III" again tonight. Sounds romantic." He leered at Bigelow.

"I'll think about it," she said coldly, winking at Jessie. "Come on, girls, let's go to the showers before there's no more hot water. You coming, Jess?"

Jessie, in mid-bite, waved them on. "Catch up with you later. I'm starving!" She laughed at their stricken looks.

Hawkeye and B.J. looked just as horrified. "You know, that stuff will kill you," Hawkeye said, pushing his plate away.

"I know, it's horrible," Jessie replied between bites. "But, all I've had to eat in the past two days is coffee. Most anything tastes good now." She swallowed a bite of something resembling applesauce. "I'll probably regret it tomorrow."

"Mind if I join you?" a pleasant voice said. A man in a cleric collar sat down next to her. She scooted over a little on the bench.

"Ah, you must be the new nurse. Let's see," he said, putting his hand on his chin. "You're from Dallas, you haven't been a nurse very long and you apparently spent the night in our company clerk's bed."

"Father! Geez!" Radar said, annoyed, from the next table.

Jessie blushed. "News travels fast here, doesn't it?"

Hawkeye waved Radar over. After looking sheepish, he grabbed his coffee cup and sat on the other side of Jessie.

Finally having enough of breakfast, Jessie pushed her plate away. She took a sip of coffee and made a face that made Hawkeye and B.J. laugh.

"See, I told you it was bad!" B.J. said.

"So," Jessie said, setting her mug down. "Since everyone seems to know so much about me, why don't all of you tell me something about yourselves." She looked at B.J. "You first."

B.J. fumbled in his front pocket and come out with a picture. "This is Peg and Erin, my daughter," he said proudly. Jessie admired the picture of the blonde with an adorable toddler.

"Mill Valley, right?" She laughed at B.J.'s expression. "You told me already."

"He never misses a chance," Hawkeye said dryly.

Jessie handed back the picture. "What about you, Hawkeye? I have a feeling you won't be handing me any pictures of a wife."

"Not that Crabapple Cove, Maine wasn't full of Mrs. Pierce hopefuls. But, it's just me and my dad, who gave me my nickname, by the way."

Jessie looked thoughtful. "_Last of the Mohicans_, isn't it?"

Hawkeye looked surprised. "You've read it?"

"Once, in school," Jessie replied. "Being from Texas, you have to read everything dealing with cowboys and Indians at a young age." She turned towards the Father. "What about you, Father? You know so much about me, but I don't even know your name."

"Frances Mulcahy," he said, shaking her hand. "Didn't mean to be rude earlier."

"Not at all. I suppose a new face around her does get peoples' tongues wagging."

"Some more so than others," Hawkeye said, eying Radar who was completely enchanted.

"Well . . ." Father Mulcahy started. Noticing Radar's interest, he motioned towards him. "Tell our new nurse about yourself, Radar."

Radar blushed, and Jessie couldn't help but smile at his discomfort. She propped her chin on her hand. "Let me guess? You're from . . . . Nebraska!"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Rats! That shows you _my_ mind-reading skills!"

"You were close," he replied shyly. "Iowa."

"Hey, maybe there's hope for me yet in the mind-reading department yet! So, any family back home?"

"Just my mom, my Uncle Ed and me," he replied. "We have a farm with some cows and chickens and stuff." He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Wh-what about you? What's it like where you live?"

Jessie thought of the antebellum home that wasn't really antebellum-her dad built it to look that way-and the acres and acres of rolling hills and woods they owned surrounding her childhood home-complete with oil wells that paid the bills. And then some. "Just a regular home," she replied, skirting the question. "My mom died when I was four, so it was just my older sister, brother and my dad. My sister is married with two kids-holy terrors if you ask me. Sorry, Father."

He smiled. "Not a problem."

"My brother, who's only a year older than me, is still at home. Actually," she said, gesturing towards Hawkeye, "he's a lot like you in the womanizing department." Hawkeye grinned.

"My dad died when I was real little," Radar said, annoyed at Hawkeye for catching Jessie's attention. "I don't remember much about him 'cause I was just a baby. Do you remember your mom any?"

Jessie sighed and looked so forlorn for a moment that Radar almost hugged her. But, he didn't even _know_ her!

"I remember the way she smelled more than anything. Made me feel safe and loved, still do when I smell lavender," she said wistfully. Then, she chuckled. "One of the few really vivid memories I have is probably around when I was three years old. I had been given some baby ducks by a neighbor. My father was simply appalled and would not allow them in the house, but my mother was just as excited as I was. We made them a little nest in the kitchen in secret." Jessie's smile faded suddenly. "She was sick right after that . . ."

It had been a long time since she'd even thought about her mother.

"At least you have that much to remember her by," Radar said softly. "I mean, I know it's not as good as having her there with you, but at least it's something."

She smiled wistfully, still with a faraway look in her green eyes. "Yeah, Walter, I guess you're right."

She hadn't realized she had used his given name. But Radar did. No one ever called him that in Korea, but he liked the way it sounded coming from her.

Neither one noticed Hawkeye motion towards B.J. and Father Mulcahy, the trio slipping away from the table.

She sighed and suddenly realized where she was. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude and talk only about myself!" She fiddled with her silverware, suddenly shy. Never one to spout her innermost feelings, especially concerning her mother, she found talking to Radar was comforting.

"No, that's OK," Radar replied. "It's nice to have someone new around to get to know. Keeps it from being so boring all the time." He looked around. "Hey, where did the others go?"

Jessie realized that the table was empty, except for the two of them. Actually, they were the only two stragglers in the tent.

"Dang, I've got to get to post-op!" Jessie jumped up and headed towards the door. Radar rose slowly, wishing they could keep talking.

She paused before walking out into the sunshine. "Hey. Thanks for listening."

He smiled back crookedly. "No problem."

Jessie ran to her tent, once she was pointed in the right direction by a strange guy with a gun in an evening gown.

_What a place_.

She rushed to the showers and took a very cold one. After not showering for 48 hours, even a cold one felt good. Dressing in a hurry in her very disappointing small tent, she sprinted to post-op arriving just in time to relieve Major Houlihan.

Jessie's day went by quickly, especially since post-op was full. She checked bandages and blood pressure readings, but mainly talked to the wounded. All of them had a story to tell, and what amused Jessie the most was many of them also had a marriage proposal.

After escaping for one adamant soldier's grasp, she turned right into Major Winchester.

"Oops, sorry, sir." So far, she had stayed out of his way after watching his pompous attitude towards everyone.

_He and my father would get along splendidly._

"Actually, I've been rather enjoying the amusing display of affection you seem to have brought out in our charges."

"Well, Major," she replied, a little taken aback by his friendliness, "glad I could be here for your amusement." She gave a little curtsey as he laughed.

"Please, call me Charles," he said, studying Jessie closely. "Tell me, have you ever been to Boston?"

Jessie tried not to look startled. "Umm, no, Major. . . . I mean Charles," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

He continued to study her. "Well, it appears for some strange reason, I feel I've met you before."

Jessie swallowed. _How did I get in this mess? And halfway around the world, too!_

She tried to laugh without it sounding strained. "Unless you have been to Texas, I seriously doubt you've ever seen me, especially in Boston high society."

"Of course. Unfortunately, I have never visited your – um – lovely state."

"Well, I need to get these samples to the lab," she said, finding any excuse to hurry away from Charles and his prying questions. She grabbed the nearest tray and hurried out the door. Once she escaped to the sunny outdoors, she sighed and leaned against the tent, careful with the samples.

Jessie really didn't want to lie to these people.

_Well, I'm really not lying just leaving out bits of information. You know, little things, like I'm an heiress to millions. _

During the rest of her shift, she stayed out of Charles' way. Good thing that Major Houlihan had wanted her in the supply tent, so she had a good excuse. Jessie found herself lost in thought as she counted and recounted supplies.

Her father had insisted she be presented to high society when the time came, just like her sister Andrea. Although Andrea had insisted on going to Europe, Jessie had balked. Her entire life she had spent being judged by her father's money. She couldn't do the things she wanted because it was so unladylike. Not to mention that friends that buddied up to her, mostly because of her family money. Jessie made a face just thinking about her father's never-ending lectures. _Your mother would not approve._ She tried so hard to live up to her father's expectations, but failed miserably.

To appease him, when she turned 16, she agreed to all the debutante business. That's how she wound up in Boston. It was full of uncomfortable dresses and all sorts of balls, teas and everything that she despised. The only bright days were the few she was left to her own devices. That's when she went out and explored the historic city on her own. When her father realized what she was doing, he was once again appalled at his daughter going out unescorted. Jessie was accustomed to disappointing him at this point.

She figured the Winchesters must have attended one of the umpteenth hundred events she was required to appear. How Charles remembered her, she didn't know. But, she saw how everyone in the camp treated him because he was constantly reminding them of his stance in society. She was finally being treated like a normal person.

And she rather enjoyed it.

******************************************************

"Hey, Radar! Sit with us!" Klinger called out across the mess tent, the supper crowd in full swing.

Everyone at the table moved over to make room. "Thanks, guys." Radar set his tray down and immediately dug in. "So, what's new?"

Rizzo shrugged. "Seems Zale's on KP duty again." He motioned toward the chow line where Zale was unceremoniously dropping dollops of WWII surplus food into tray after tray.

"Yeah? What did he do?" Radar asked between bites.

"Something to do with back-talking Major Houlihan." They all rolled their eyes. They knew how she could be.

Klinger brightened. "Speaking of nurses, what do you think of the new one – the red head?"

Radar swallowed hard, uncomfortable with the subject. Anything about women made him nervous. But, especially _that_ woman.

Before he could reply, Rizzo butted in. "She's my kind of gal. Those Texas women sure can keep your nights warm – _if_ you know what I mean."

Klinger let out a low whistle. "You gonna try?"

Rizzo leaned back. "Once she gets a load of my Louisiana charm, she won't be able to keep her hands off of me."

Klinger looked doubtful. "I don't know . . . whatta you think, Radar? Rizzo got a chance?"

_I certainly hope not._

But, Radar didn't dare say it. He glanced across the room where Jessie was deep in conversation with the other nurses. "I guess he's got as much a chance as the rest of us." _Zilch. Zero. Nada._

Klinger noticed who Radar was watching and grinned. "Trying to save her all for yourself, kiddo?"

Radar blushed and returned to his food, although he had suddenly lost his appetite. "She's alright . . ."

"Just alright? You looked mighty moonstruck yesterday when I saw the two of you over by Rosie's Bar."

"She was carrying supplies to the locals. I couldn't let her go out there by herself! There could have been snipers or something." Truthfully, he found any excuse he could to spend time with her. She was friendly, but it was hard for him to tell what she really thought about him. Nerves.

"Aw, how sweet. Protecting her from the big, bad enemy," Rizzo mocked.

Klinger rolled his eyes. "You've spent more time with her than any of us. Tell me, what's she like?"

Radar shrugged, his heart racing. He didn't like being put on the spot, especially concerning Jessie. "Just like everyone else I guess."

"No, I mean, what kind of clothes did she bring? You think she'd let me borrow anything?" Klinger asked eagerly.

Radar stared. "Good grief, Klinger, I don't know! I didn't ask!"

Rizzo motioned. "Looks like you're going to get a chance."

A gaggle of nurses, talking animatedly, was heading by their table to the exit, Jessie included.

Klinger looked ready to pounce, but Jessie made the first move, pausing by their table.

"Hey, Radar. I haven't seen you around today."

Radar almost choked. It was a whole lot easier to talk to her when people weren't _watching_! "Well . . . I . . .uh . . . I've been busy. Army stuff, you know."

She didn't seem to notice his discomfort, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks for helping me yesterday. With the supplies. You saved me from having to make more than one trip to the village." She smiled and squeezed his arm before rushing to catch up with the nurses.

Radar looked at his arm where she had touched him. "Uh . . . you're welcome." But, she was already out the door, leaving him to deal with Klinger and Rizzo's teasing for the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

Found out something new. My home computer does not like to download my saved files. Boo! Thanks to all who have reviewed!

***********************************

"Hey, Jess? Wanna see the movie?"

Jessie looked up from her book and stretched on her cot. Several of the nurses had come inside and made themselves at home.

"What's playing?"

Kelleye shrugged. "Some western." She picked up Jessie's worn paperback. "Hey, I thought you already read this?"

"I did. About six times." Jessie rose and studied herself in a small mirror. She picked up a hairbrush and began running it through her hair.

Stacey took the book from Kelleye and fanned herself. "If it doesn't cool off around here, I'm going to become a puddle of female goo in the middle of the camp!"

"That's disgusting, Stace," Bigelow said. She held the door for the women as they exited the stuffy tent.

"Is it always this hot here?" Jessie asked, pulling her sticky shirt off her back.

"Only when it's not freezing cold," Bigelow said.

"Aren't there _any_ nice days?"

"Now, come on. Are there ever really any nice days in Korea?" Stacey asked.

Thinking of the disease, gore and horror of OR, Jessie shrugged. "Touché."

A crowd was already gathered inside the make-shift theatre. Jessie cringed at the thought of sitting so close to people in such stifling quarters, without even a fan to stir the air.

They all paused outside the door.

"You know, I don't think this is such a hot idea." Jessie said.

"No, it _is_ a hot idea!" Bigelow said. "Get it? Hot?"

Kelleye rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I agree with Jess. I think I'll go take a shower or something. Preferably cold."

Jessie agreed. "You guys go ahead. We'll catch you later."

The two nurses walked past Kelleye's tent. "Going with me?"

Jessie shook her head. "What's the use? A shower feels great, but the minute I'm out, I start sweating again."

"True, true!" Kelleye laughed.

Jessie sauntered slowly through camp alone, not exactly relishing an evening in her just-as-stuffy tent. Especially with nothing to do but re-read books she had already read five times. She could write a letter or see if someone was playing poker . . .

Her gaze settled on a light in Radar's office. On a whim, she decided to see what the company clerk was up to.

His office was a wreck. More of a wreck than usual. It appeared that all the files in camp were stacked haphazardly throughout the office.

Jessie straightened one pile that was in immediate danger of toppling. "Radar?"

"In here," came his muffled reply.

She followed the sound of his voice into Col. Potter's office. There, she found more stacks of files. Radar was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking disgusted.

She leaned on an empty cabinet. "You know, for a minute, I thought you might be buried underneath one of these mounds of paper."

"I tell you what, I wish I was."

"What's with the tornado?" She gestured around the office.

He sighed. "Some general is going to be here tomorrow morning at 0600 hours."

Jessie shrugged. "So? Generals come and go around here all the time."

"Yeah, but this one wants to see the files. All the files. And he wants them to be in a particular order, or he'll have my butt in a sling."

"Ahh. I think I understand. He wants them to be in _his_ order."

"Bingo," he said, pointing at her for emphasis. "I guess I'll be up all night to get it done."

She picked up a stack of papers and thumbed through them. "Why don't I help?"

Radar looked slightly mortified. "Oh, no! You don't have to do that! Why, I'm sure you have lots of things to do tonight. Maybe a – umm - date or something?"

He certainly hoped not.

"A date?" Jessie brushed a strand of damp hair off her forehead and neatly stacked the papers in her hands. The last thing she had thought about in this hellhole was male companionship, especially after her last debacle of a relationship.

Radar picked at a rust spot on a cabinet. "Usually when a new nurse comes along, all the guys fall all over themselves to ask her out."

Jessie raised an eyebrow, still shuffling through the paper. "If you mean Hawkeye, I'd rather eat a jeep than find myself alone with him." She looked up thoughtfully. "You know, Rizzo's been pretty adamant, too. But, I know about men from Louisiana. Their coon dogs mean more to them than their women!"

"I think I heard him say something like that the other day!"

They both laughed. Secretly, he was relieved.

She clapped her hands together. "So, what do we do first?"

"I – uh – I'm not sure. I've never had anyone offer to help before."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" She smiled, and his heart thumped. He hoped she couldn't tell.

They worked all evening and into the night. Once she knew what sort of order the files were in, she could hunt them down as he told her what went next in the general's special filing system.

"So," she asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by stacks of papers. "What do you miss most about home? I mean, besides the obvious."

He leaned back in his chair, which squealed in protest. "Well, I guess its color." He motioned around the olive drab office. "You know, everything around here is so dull. Most of the time even the sky and the trees and the grass are the same dull color."

"I can't agree with you more!" she fanned herself with a sheet of paper. "I will never voluntarily wear green again!"

"What about you? What do you miss the most?"

"Right now, air conditioning!"

"Oh yeah! We didn't have it at home, though. But, we'd go to the movies, and they had it. Boy, was it nice!"

The Callahan house was actually full equipped with indoor air conditioning, and had been for years, but she didn't bring that up.

As the evening wore on, they talked as they worked. Aside from being easy to talk to, Radar could tell some great stories of his own. After leaving her in stitches telling her about the time their bull got out and wandered down Main Street, she couldn't even catch her breath.

"Boy, I didn't know living in Iowa could be so much fun!" She wiped the sweat out of her eyes with her shirt sleeve.

"It's not when the bull runs through a plate glass window at the grocery store! He thought his reflection was another bull! Boy, was the grocer mad! I had to work there for almost a whole summer to pay off the cost of replacing it!"

Jessie burst into another fit of giggles.

At almost 4 a.m., they were finished. She sat on the edge of Col. Potter's desk, holding her hair off her neck and fanning brusquely. Digging in her pocket, she came out with several bobby pins and pinned her hair up haphazardly. "Whew! I think it's hotter at night than during the day!" She fanned harder.

Radar was standing next to her, admiring their work.

And trying not to admire Jessie.

"It does seem that way sometimes, doesn't it?" He wandered over to the nearest cabinet and opened the first drawer, thumbing through the orderly files. "Thanks for the help, Jess. I don't think I could have finished all this without you."

"No problem. All I would be doing right about now is tossing and turning in my sweaty cot."

He tried not to think about _that_.

She continued. "Might as well make myself useful. Besides, you're good company." She rubbed at her sore shoulders as she talked.

"I am?" Radar sounded surprised. "I mean, not too many people ever tell me that. Especially – um – females."

Jessie didn't quite know what to say. Throughout the evening as they had worked and laughed, she had found that she liked the shy corporal.

For some reason, Radar just couldn't help himself. He found himself moving to stand behind her as she stared at the floor, deep in thought.

She had laid in the sun too long a couple of days ago with the other nurses. Her neck was sunburned. Not only was she not wearing the typical fatigues they all wore, but she was wearing this little top with . . .

He shook his head to rid himself of the image.

But his current view didn't help. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her sunburned skin. Thin tendrils of hair that were too short to be pinned up had plastered themselves just below her hairline. The smell of her soap, something lemony, almost drove him nuts.

Jessie could tell the mood in the stuffy office changed considerably the closer he moved towards her. Warning bells went off in her head. _Remember what you said after Mark? No. More. Men. Ever. Period. End of discussion_.

But, Radar was not like Mark, of that she was certain. His gentleness with the local children, animals and even the wounded touched her. She found herself watching him on occasion, curious as to how he could be so tender-hearted, yet find enough toughness deep inside to deal with the horrid, everyday conditions in the ROK without it affecting who he really was. Or maybe it did affect him, and she didn't know it.

But, she found she really wanted to know.

She sucked in a breath as she felt his fingers curl a tendril of damp hair on her neck, her heart racing wildly.

Jessie knew she would see other men eventually, but this one had definitely snuck up on her bruised and battered heart.

"Radar, do you have those files finished yet? This damn General will drive me crazy if this heat doesn't!"

They immediately leapt to opposite ends of the room as Col. Potter bellowed his way into his office, wearing his bathrobe, a towel thrown over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Jessie digging determinedly through a file cabinet in the corner. Although it was dim, he could swear she was blushing.

"Oh – umm – well – it's done, Colonel." Radar stuttered, hastily arranging and rearranging the paperwork on Col. Potter's desk.

Col. Potter eyeballed the flustered clerk, then the equally flustered Jessie. The gears in his brain started turning. "The Lieutenant been keeping you company, Radar?"

"She offered to help, sir. I don't think I could have finished it without her." Radar looked at her gratefully.

"Well, well. I'd a slept a little better knowing there was two on the job. Thank you for your help, Lieutenant."

"You're welcome," Jessie managed to whisper, her pulse beating wildly. She wouldn't meet Radar's eyes. A part of her was afraid what she would see. And what he would see in her own. "I- uh – better get going. I go on duty at 6."

"You do that, Lieutenant. And thanks again."

Jessie half-saluted and practically ran out the door into the muggy dawn.

Col. Potter rocked back on his heels. "Had a horse one time with hair almost the same color. Headstrong, but one of the best damned animals I ever owned."

"Yes sir," Radar mumbled, not quite hearing what the Colonel was saying. He could still smell her scent, and it was making him a little dizzy. "Uhh, sir, I think I'll hit the showers, if that's OK with you." He edged towards the door.

Col. Potter chuckled. "Better make it a cold one."

*******************************************************

The weather changed, and Jessie was not accustomed to the biting wind. Wounded came and went, and she tried to adjust herself to the long, tedious hours of surgery, followed by equally long, tedious days of boredom.

But, she would have taken the boredom any day to the 72 straight hours of hell they had after she had only been there a month. The fighting picked up dramatically, and the 4077th found itself almost buried with wounded.

Jessie had never seen anything like it.

Battered and bloody soldiers were everywhere – in pre-op and lying in stretchers all around the compound. The mess tent had even been transformed into a crude OR pre-op of sorts. Their pain and fear-induced cries made Jessie want to run screaming from camp with her hands over her ears. The floors in OR were so slippery with blood, that everyone would have to brace themselves to keep from falling. Supplies were running low, and Jessie seriously figured if she slowed down long enough, someone would try to tap her for a pint.

The one thing she was grateful for was that it was chilly. She didn't think the smell of all the gore would have been tolerable in warmer weather.

Not that the screams of the soldiers and the sight of the wounds didn't make all of them nauseous enough. Top that off with the lack of sleep and the manic pace, and Jessie thought after the first 24 hours that she was in a bad dream. A really bad dream that she would wake up from relieved that she was back at home in her bed. Safe.

But it wasn't a dream, and Jessie and the other staff kept patching soldiers together hour after hour.

During a lull, Major Houilihan allowed the nurses to take a break in 1-hour shifts. When Jessie's turn came, she didn't even try to stumble to her tent. Instead, she settled for an unused corner of pre-op and collapsed on a bench. Her adrenaline was pumping so hard, that one hour was not going to be enough time to get any rest. But, getting off her feet helped. Some. She flexed her sore fingers, but the raw places on her skin rubbed by the constant changing and re-changing of rubber gloves made her wince.

"The locals make something that the nurses put on their hands. It helps when you wear gloves for too long." Radar flopped heavily on the bench next to her.

"I'll ask about it when this if over." _If it's ever over._ She had arrived in Hell and wondered briefly if it was a permanent situation.

Trying to break away from such morbid thoughts, her mind wandered to that night in Col. Potter's office, once again realizing how surprising it was that it was not awkward between them. He never even brought it up. And he had plenty of times to. Ever since then, not a day went by that one didn't seek the other out, no matter how busy they were. He knew her almost as well as her own family.

_Except for the heiress thing, of course._

She had come to count on him being there for her, and she wondered if he felt the same way.

"You hungry?"

Jessie jumped out of her revelry. "I guess I should be." She shifted on the hard bench, sticking her cold hands inside her coat pockets. Her face brightened as she pulled her hand out of her coat.

"An apple! I haven't had one of those in ages!" Radar said in awe.

Jessie held it out in front of them. "Stacey came back from leave last week with all kinds of fruit. This is about all that's left." She held it out to him. "Wanna share?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't. It's yours." He pushed Jessie's hand back gently.

Jessie reached in her other pocket for a pocket knife. "If I can peel this entire apple in one long slice, then you share it with me. If I can't do it, then I have to eat it by myself."

Radar smiled at her, his weary eyes brightening. "You're on."

Thanks to her tomboy ways, she was rather proficient with a knife. "You know, when we were little, we were always told that if you peel an apple in a continuous peel, then throw it over your shoulder, it will land in the shape of the letter of the man's name you were going to marry."

"First name or last?" he asked, watching her work.

Jessie shrugged. "Don't know. I guess whatever you want it to be." With a flourish, she finished. "Tada! You lose!" She cut off a slice.

Radar gratefully took it and chewed slowly. "Aren't you going to try it?"

"Try what?"  
"What you just told me. Throwing the peel over your shoulder."

Jessie shrugged. "Why not?" She tossed it, and it landed on the floor. They both leaned in closer.

"Looks sort of like an M to me." she said, cocking her head to one side.

"Could be a W. Maybe."

Fatigue slowed her brain, but she caught on. She cut her eyes at him, and he was grinning at her.

"OK, _Walter_!" She jabbed him in the chest with her finger, and he laughed. She cut him another slice.

Radar leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes. He chewed thoughtfully. "We had these two apple trees at home that would be full of fruit each fall. My mom would make several pies and leave them on the window sill to cool. You could smell them all over the yard." He smiled to himself. "My brother and I would try to steal one, but my mom was always there to shoo us away. Boy, those were the best-tasting pies!" He took a deep breath. "This reminds me of autumn at home. The air was so crisp, and the crops would be ready to harvest, and all the colors were just so beautiful. You would love autumn in Iowa."

As he talked, melancholy overtook her. The visions of fall in the Midwest were clashing with the hell they were all living in Korea.

Sensing a change in her mood, he opened his eyes, watching her carefully.

She cleared her throat. "Let's not talk about home. Anyone's home. I-I don't think I can take it. Not today."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

His honest gaze made her look away.

He resisted the urge to reach out to her and fleetingly wondered why she never brought up the night in Col. Potter's office. He sure thought about it. And he thought about her a lot, too.

Doggedly, she stuck another piece of fruit in her mouth. "Oh, it's not your fault. It's just this place. I thought I was used to it, but I guess not." Her desire for comfort finally overwhelmed her hesitation, and she snuggled next to him, her head on his arm. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she settled. But, he didn't push her away.

"I don't think we're supposed to get totally used to it. Maybe you learn to ignore it, but you don't ever get used to it." He threw caution to the wind and boldly linked his fingers with hers. Her hands were soft, just like he thought they'd be.

"Do you think we'll be different when we get home?" She felt her scratchy eyes growing heavy.

He yawned. "Yeah, but in a good way. We'll probably appreciate things more than we did before. Like clean clothes. And sunsets." He leaned his cheek hesitantly on the top of her head.

"And apples," Jessie whispered, half asleep.

Margaret and Hawkeye found them both asleep a half-hour later.

"Seems a shame to wake them," Hawkeye said, pulling off his bloody gown.

Margaret crossed her arms. "You know, I tell my nurses that it's against regulations to consort with the enlisted men. And what do they do?" She motioned towards the sleeping pair.

"Oh, c'mon, Margaret," Hawkeye said, settling on a bench with a sigh. "Even enlisted men deserve some comfort every now and then." He leered at her. "You and I have an hour. We could do a lot of 'comforting,' in one hour. Don't you think?"

Margaret glared back at him, leaning over to wake Jessie. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Captain!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Jess! The movie starts in five minutes!" Radar knocked on her door before he entered her tent.

Jessie, sitting cross-legged on her cot, smiled at him as he walked through the door. His heart skipped a beat, and he cleared his throat, struggling for something to say. No matter how often he saw her, she always managed to have the affect on it. It was maddening and fascinating, all at the same time.

He focused on what she was holding in her hands. "Hey, are those records?"

She thumbed through the small stack on her bed. "Yeah, isn't it great? My sister sent them to me, along with this record player." She motioned towards the opened box on the floor. "I just had a moment to go through them. Andrea has this thing for swing music. We took dance lessons when we were younger, and swing was always what she liked." She pulled the record player out and set it on a table in the corner.

"Well, what was your thing?"

"My thing?"

"Yeah, dancing?"

Jessie shrugged. "I wasn't ever all that good at it."

"Me neither."

Jessie wiped the dust off her knees as she struggled up from the floor. "There. Hand me that one there." She pointed to a Glenn Miller record.

Radar handed it to her, and she placed it gingerly on the record player. The first scratchy notes of "In the Mood" filled the tent.

"Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?" she said, tapping her foot to the rhythm. She stood up and took Radar's hand. "C'mon, and I'll show you a few steps."

He balked. "I don't know."

She pulled him off the cot. "It's not that hard. Just try it."

Although he was rather hesitant at first and let her lead, the fast-paced music and their mistakes soon had them giggling. They danced through several songs.

At the end of the fourth number, Radar tried to dip Jessie, and they both fell onto her cot, laughing and out-of-breath. She held on to her side. "That's the most exercise I've gotten since I been here!"

"Yeah, me, too," he puffed.

She punched him in the arm. "You aren't as bad as you said."

He studied his hands. "Well, I used to dance some. With Betty Sue."

Jessie sat up straight. _Funny, he's never mentioned her before_.

It's almost as if he read her mind. "Oh, just a girl I used to know."

She raised an eyebrow. She knew there was more to the story. "And?"

He was a little embarrassed he had even brought it up. He offered her a hand and helped her stand. The record, still emitting its scratchy music from the corner, had launched into "Moonlight Serenade." Absently, they began slow-dancing. She followed along, waiting for him to continue.

"We were sort of engaged before I left for Korea. But, she married one of the star football players from high school while I was gone. I guess she got tired of waiting." He shrugged. "I haven't thought about her in a long time."

"That's awful!"

"Well, it happens. I guess there's no guarantee I'll even make it home." It was a fear they all shared, but one he generally kept to himself. But, it seemed so natural to let it spill out to her.

She jolted to a stop. The tune kept playing, but she ignored it. "That's not true! Don't say things like that!"

He studied her closely, not expecting her reaction. "How can you be so sure?"

She raised her head defiantly. "You're too nice to die in a crummy place like this. I bet you die an old man in his bed surrounded by lots and lots of family."

He smiled. "That's a nice thought, you know." The record player launched into "Chattanooga Choo-Choo", and they stood awkwardly, still holding onto each other.

"Oh, the movie!" he said, moving away from her.

She was surprised by how disappointed she was and moved to the box at the end of the cot. "Forget the movie. Why don't we see what else my sister sent? She's an excellent cook, you know." _Actually, she has an excellent cook on staff_. "Ah ha!" She pulled out a tin full of cookies.

The rest of the evening and long into the night, they talked. Family, friends, sports, church, they covered it all. Before they both realized it, it was 3 a.m. They were both sitting on the floor, going through some of her pictures. He had also shown her some of his family photos that were in his wallet.

Reluctantly, he rose from his spot next to her.

"I guess I better get some sleep." He stood with his hands in his pockets, scuffing his boot on the floor. "I had a good time."

She rose rather stiffly from her place on the floor. "Yeah, me, too. Even if we didn't get to see the movie."

She walked with him to the door. They both looked outside into the quiet compound. A shadowy figure obviously wearing an evening gown and sun bonnet marched nearby.

Jessie motioned towards his retreating shadow. "At least you'll be safe going back to your tent. Bridezilla over there is on guard tonight."

"Yeah, he can hit them with his purse!"

They both giggled. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I had a great time."

He returned the hug, breathing in the scent of her hair. "Um, yeah. Me, too."

She kissed him on the cheek. "I hope Colonel Potter won't be mad that I kept you up so late."

He was glad it was dark, so she couldn't see him blush. "Oh, um, he won't mind."

"G'night, Walter."

"Yeah. G'night."

Radar sauntered across camp, whistling at his good fortune.

*******************************

That night was the first time he had the nightmare.

It was vague at first, just shapes and sounds the brain plays for itself after a long day of dealing with war and what it brings.

That's when he saw it. It was almost like a snapshot, so clear he could see the tears on her face and her bright red blood staining the collar of her shirt.

The loud report of a gun made him sit straight up in his cot, breathing unsteadily, the shot echoing in his head. He threw back the blanket and reached for his glasses, convinced someone had fired a pistol in camp.

Peeking out the door, all was quiet. The guards were talking amongst themselves nearby, obviously unconcerned.

Radar softly shut the door. The gun shot was so real! But, it was a dream. Only a dream. There was no gunfire. It was only a dream.

He settled back in his cot. As he fell back asleep, he tried to remember what else aside from the echoing gunshot had him so uneasy.

***********************************

During the slow times, Jessie learned how to play poker - always making sure she ran out of money before anyone else. She never ventured too far from the camp for fear of snipers, landmines and North Koreans, but she did try to keep up her exercising. While in school, she had been a majorette, which actually required more exercise and practice then most people imagined. Jessie had managed to sneak in a couple of batons in her luggage, and she would disappear behind her tent to twirl, if anything for the exercise. Nothing was kept a secret long in camp, and she found herself teaching some of the nurses who were interested to learn. She even was teaching Klinger. Jessie was relieved to know he really wasn't a transvestite, only trying to play one to get a Section 8 from the Army. He thought twirling a baton would come in handy one day.

She also wrote tons of letters. The only one she really told about her new life was her brother, who always seemed to understand. She figured no one else was interested in all the blood, rats and disease.

_Dear Johnny,_

_I was glad to receive your last letter! You just don't know how boring it can get. However, I would take boredom any day to the hours and hours in surgery. The wounds some of these soldiers-most of them boys, really-come in here with boggles the mind. However, the doctors here are top-notch and patch them up enough to send them to Seoul. I really don't think I've told you about anyone yet, so here goes. _

_The head surgeon is Capt. Benjamin Franklin Pierce, but he goes by Hawkeye. You and he would get along perfectly, or maybe you wouldn't because you would be fighting over the same women! Once he found out I was not interested, he didn't take it personally. He taught me how to play poker, which I am NOT good at. I think that's why he taught me, to win some money! His bunkmate in The Swamp, which is the name of their tent (you can imagine why it has that name), is Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt. No one really knows what the B.J. stands for. Anyway, he's quite the opposite of Hawkeye, with a wife and child back home he adores. The other bunkmate is Charles Emerson Winchester The Third (he never leaves off The Third!) who is worth about as much as Father and about as pompous about it! However, he seems to have taken a shine to me, and I often find myself in his company. He's actually a fairly nice fellow once he forgets to be stuck up! _

_I know that we're Methodist, but I have really enjoyed the company of the camp priest. Father Mulcahy and I spent hours discussing literature and poetry and music. I could probably discuss these things with Charles, but it's more fun to discuss them with someone who thinks women are allowed to have educated thoughts. _

_All the nurses here are wonderful! I've been teaching them to twirl, and we've been having a great time giggling and gossiping into the night. There are all strong women, too, to be able to put up with the horrible surgery that goes on here. Oh did I mention that there's a guy here who wears dresses? I'll enclose a picture later of him dressed up like Scarlett O'Hara! You will just die! Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the head honcho around here-Col. Sherman Potter. Apparently, when he arrived, everyone was terrified because he was regular army. The previous CO was the total opposite of regular army, and loved by all. He died on his way home! Can you believe it? But, Col. Potter runs this place efficiently, but not trying to make soldiers out of doctors and nurses that were never meant to be soldiers. He lets us do our job._

_You mentioned in your last letter that Mark had asked about me. I know, I know, you think I only became engaged to him because I knew Father wouldn't approve of a country/western singer, and you know me, that was certainly part of it! He was always so exciting, though, and everything seemed so much fun when he was around. Boy, did I learn you can't base a relationship on fun! Glad to hear he has gone to Nashville. You also asked if I had found a replacement for Mark. Well, no, I haven't. Who wants to start a romance with bombs going off, sometimes in camp?(Don't tell anyone that.) Aside from all the proposals from the wounded soldiers I'm caring for, most who have girlfriends and wives back home, there is someone who I literally ran into the first day I was here! Walter-everyone calls him Radar because he knows what is going to happen before it happens-is a farm boy from a little town in Iowa. He is the company clerk and is so sweet, but really shy. However, I have found that I can tell him most anything because he doesn't have a judgmental bone in his body. He's really funny, too, when he's not being shy. Because not much gets past anyone around here (sort of like at home!), there's been talk about us, but so far, we've done nothing but talk. I don't know what to think about that. Frankly, I try not to. I keep telling myself I'm not interested in a relationship, especially in the barf capital of Korea! Part of me wonders if I'm interested because as an officer, we're not supposed to associate with enlisted men, but if at all possible, I would stay away from the wrath of the head nurse. Now, she's an interesting character! Part sex kitten, part hard core soldier and good-lookin' to boot! She was apparently hot and heavy with another doctor that went crazy when she married this Pennobscott fellow, but so far, I've never seen her relax and enjoy herself._

_Whew, sorry I've written so much! Tell everyone at home I said hey. Make sure you hug Mattie and Arthur for me!_

_Your loving sister,_

_Jessie_

As Jessie addressed the envelope, she began to think about what she had left behind. Arthur and Mattie were her father's butler and cook, but after Jessie's mother died and her father withdrew, they were pretty much her surrogate father and mother. Mattie taught her about the birds and the bees when Jessie thought she was dying because she started her period, and Arthur taught her how to drive. She loved to sit in their little house while Mattie sewed and Arthur read the paper. They never had children of their own, so Jessie was basically their daughter, as far as they were concerned.

Arthur had also given her a stuffed pink horse when her mother died. Jessie had dubbed him Reginald and proceeded to take him everywhere she went-even boarding school. She had almost packed him to come to Korea, but didn't want anything to happen to him - she had been advised not to take anything valuable with her, and Reginald was as valuable to her as they had come.

A wave of homesickness threatened to overcome her. She missed her family, and she wished she could put her head in Mattie's lap like she did when she was small while Mattie stroked her hair and hummed hymns. At least if she had brought Reginald, she would have a little bit of home that his worn pink hide could bring.

She curled up on her lumpy cot, clutching her flat pillow to her. She had been at the 4077th for a month and had tried not the think about home. She had volunteered, hadn't she? So, it seemed silly to be homesick. But, sometimes when she was alone, it was hard to help it.

Across the camp, Radar was busily churning out forms in duplicate and triplicate. Without knowing why, he decided to take a break and visit Jessie. He sauntered across the camp, whistling. Before he knocked on her door, he thought he could hear sniffling. Hesitating, he almost turned away. But, he couldn't just leave her alone when she was obviously upset_._ He straightened his shoulders and knocked.

"Jessie, it's me, Radar!" he called.

"Come in," she said softly and sniffed. When he opened the door, he saw her busy with a letter on her desk.

"Hey," she said refusing to face him.

"Well, I, um, just wanted to stop by and say 'hi,'" he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Say, did you get some bad news from home?"

Jessie shook her head. "No, not at all. In fact, everything seems to be going along fine."

Her sadness filled the tent, and he wasn't quite sure what to do. He wanted to reach out to her, but hesitated. "You know, Jess, everyone gets homesick now and then. At least you just cry instead of pickle your liver like Hawkeye!"

She chuckled a little and sniffed again. Hawkeye certainly was a notorious drinker. She moved to the bed, but still wouldn't look at him.

"Usually, I do a little better than this. But, I got a letter from my brother, and, well, you can see what happened." She finally looked into his understanding eyes.

"Hey, it'll be OK," he said, sitting down next to her. She put her head on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he put his arm around her. Her hair smelt just like flowers that grew wild at home, and he found himself taking deep breaths.

"You know what I was suddenly homesick for?"

"What?" he replied, trying to decide if he had died and gone to heaven.

She sat up, and he tried to hide his disappointment. "Promise not to laugh?"

"Promise," he replied solemnly.

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and told him about Reginald. "Kinda embarrassing, really. I guess I should be missing my family – and I do – but I suddenly missed Reginald."

Radar was quiet, and Jessie thought she had shocked him with her childishness. She glanced over at him, and he was looking at her thoughtfully through his glasses.

"I'll be right back!" he said, jumping up and rushing out the door. She was a little taken aback and peered after him, wondering what he was up to.

She didn't wait long. There was a knock on her door. Before she could reply, Radar rushed into her room with something in a pillow case. He sat it down in her lap.

"I don't think it's childish at all," he said in a hurry. "I thought you might want to borrow this, at least for a little while."

Jessie looked up at him questioningly, and he motioned for her to open the pillow case. She gasped when two beady eyes peered back at her.

"Oh, wow!" She pulled out a stuffed bear that was about as worn as Reginald. She hugged it to her chest and looked up at him as he watched her a little wistfully.

"Hey, are you sure it's OK if I borrow him for a little while?" She had heard he had a bear, but she never brought it up, and he never mentioned it. She knew he was teased about it and knowing that he trusted her was comforting somehow.

"No, I'll be OK," he said, smiling at her crookedly. He turned towards her box that served as a dresser and toyed with a hairbrush, a little embarrassed. "You know, everyone teases me about him, but anything that makes you feel a little better around here is worth it. When you told me about your rabbit, I couldn't keep him for myself when you needed him more. But, just for a little while . . ." He turned and trailed off. Jessie was sound asleep, with the bear peeking out of the crook of her arm.

Radar shook his head. _She falls asleep faster than anyone I've ever seen._ He covered her with a pink quilt she had managed to talk Klinger out of and watched her even breathing for a moment. He leaned down to tuck the quilt around her shoulders, patted the bear and strolled out the door, whistling.

***********************************

Jessie awoke with the thought she was being watched. She opened her eyes and found that she was looking into three pairs of dark eyes. She almost yelped with surprise as she threw the quilt back, tucking Radar's bear under the blanket. The three Korean children looked at her expectantly.

"You promised," the smaller one said. Jessie realized she must have slept awhile. She smiled at the trio.

"That's right, I did," she said, rummaging in her chest for her batons. She brought out a pair smaller than the ones she used. She had managed to get them on the black market. "These would be just the right size." The three girls broke out in grins and rushed out the door.

Jessie followed them and stopped in her tracks. Outside her tent were six more girls.

"Well, I guess news travels fast doesn't it?" she said, mostly to herself.

"We all learn," one of the children said. "We heard the red-hair lady would teach us."

Jessie, a little befuddled, wondered how she would teach all of them with one set of batons. She twisted her hair into a bun behind her neck and smiled.

"The more the merrier!" she said, taking one of them by the hand.

Before Jessie's training session was over, they had drawn a crowd. She hardly noticed, however, because she was so busy trying to teach a bunch of children who didn't speak English. She figured actions spoke louder than words, and showed each child how to twirl the baton in their fingers, first. After a couple of hours, Jessie and the girls were tiring. One of the older girls shyly handed her back her batons.

"You do," she said in broken English. Jessie smiled at the shy girl to ease her discomfort.

Jessie stepped back from the group, twirled the batons in her hands a moment, then threw one high in the air, spun around several times on one foot and caught it, all while twirling the second baton in her fingers. The Korean children clapped approvingly. The raucous male applause startled her, and she almost lost her balance. She turned and saw the crowd that had been watching her, complete with Hawkeye and B.J. in outdoor lounge chairs, umbrellas and robes.

"Brava, Brava!" they chanted merrily. Jessie stuck out her tongue at them, then gathered the children in a row.

"Remember like I showed you," she said. "And, curtsy!" The entire row of children, including Jessie, completed a rather ragged curtsy for the crowd, which cheered louder. She turned back to the children. "Same time next week?" she asked motioning with her hands. The children smiled, nodded and scampered off.

Jessie knew what she had to do and went immediately back to her tent. She rummaged for a clean sheet of paper, sat Radar's bear on the desk beside her and began to write.


	5. Chapter 5

OK, did I warn everyone this is rather long? Sorry, if I didn't, but it's rather long. I sort of got carried away. You know how it is :-)

*******************************************

Jessie waited almost two weeks for the box to arrive. She was in post-op when Klinger sauntered in, wearing a black evening gown.

"Hey, Klinger, nice dress," she said absently, writing on a chart and placing it on the foot of the bed.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," he replied, twirling a bit and making the dress sparkle "I bought it on my last trip to Seoul."

She stifled a laugh. "It looks very – ah – becoming on you," she managed. "And call me Jessie."

"Thank you Madam Jessamyn," he said, using her given name. "I am to inform you that you have a rather large and bulky box waiting for you in Radar's office."

Jessie resisted the urge to jump up and down and clap her hands with glee

"So, Jess, is it clothes, dresses, shoes, accessories?" he whispered. "I can pay top dollar, you know."

She giggled. "Sorry to disappoint, but it's not clothes." She laughed aloud when he actually looked crestfallen, earning a stern look from Major Houlihan across the room. She immediately stopped laughing.

"I'll be there when my shift's over," she whispered to him.

"Right," he said, whispering back. He winked at her and sauntered back into the Korean sunshine, beads sparkling. She shook her head and continued her rounds.

She could barely contain herself and shot out of post op and into Radar's office when the next shift arrived. She almost tripped over the large wooden crate parked in the middle of the floor when she flew through the door.

Radar was coming out of Col. Potter's office and caught her practically dancing a jig around the box. He smiled at the sight.

"Package from home?" he asked, realizing how lame it sounded. She was too excited to notice his discomfort. Despite the fact they had become friends, he still managed to feel uncomfortable around her at times. It was aggravating, to say the least.

"Oh, it's been something I've been waiting for!" she replied feeling around the box. "How do you reckon I'm supposed to open this thing?"

Radar rummaged around under his desk and came up with a crowbar and went to work on it. She shifted nervously back and forth on her feet waiting.

With one final shove, the lid creaked open. Jessie pounced on the box and pulled the lid back the rest of the way, rummaging in the dark recesses of the crate.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling out sets and sets of batons. There were all colors and sizes. Her high school pals really came through for her! "The kids will be so excited!" She practically hugged the handful of batons, one full of glitter, to her chest.

"Wow!" Radar replied, kneeling down next to Jessie.

Jessie continued rummaging deep in the box. "I wrote one of my friends and asked her to get in touch with some of my classmates to see if they had old batons they weren't using." She came up from the box holding a purple baton with white streamers on the end. "Isn't this great?" she said, twirling it between her fingers. "I know, it's kind of childish, but these kids need something that's their own, don't you think?"

It finally dawned on Radar what she was going to do. "Yeah, you're right," he replied, watching her dive back in the box.

Suddenly, she stopped rooting and popped back up. "You know what? We can have a talent show! Me and Klinger can make little sequined outfits and we can have a parade! Or . . ." She stopped when she realized Radar was trying not to laugh.

She was a little crestfallen at his reaction. "What's so funny?"

He had to back pedal fast. "Oh, no, I wasn't laughing at you," Radar stammered. "You just looked so excited, and you don't see too much of that around here, you know?"

Jessie brightened, and he thought his heart would melt.

In all her excitement, her hair had fallen out of its customary bun and strands were falling in her face. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed one out of her eyes, his fingers lingering on her skin.

Her eyes widened at his touch. But, she didn't pull away.

She didn't _want_ to pull away.

"What the blazes is all this racket out here? It's enough to wake the dead!" Col. Potter demanded, emerging from his office. Radar and Jessie jumped backwards. She immediately putting the batons back in the box.

Colonel Potter paused when he saw the two kneeling on the floor, batons scattered around.

"What the devil?" he asked, picking one up next to his foot that had rolled across the floor. "Did a marching band just fly through here?"

"Um, no sir," Jessie replied, her face flaming. "I – um - well, I had all these sent from home, and I was going to give them to the local children."

"Yeah, she wants to do a pageant or something with them," Radar said, helping her pile the batons back in the box. "I think it's a good idea, don't you Colonel?"

Col. Potter rocked back on his heels. "I think it's a dandy idea, Lieutenant. Just give us the time and the place. It'll be an order for everyone to attend."

Jessie smiled at Col. Potter. He found himself smiling back.

_I can see what the boy sees in her._

"Thanks, Colonel," she replied, rising from the floor and wiping off her knees. "I'll get this out of your office ASAP," she said and sailed out the door, looking for Klinger and leaving a befuddled Radar and amused Col. Potter in her wake.

Jessie was busy over the next few days. When she wasn't teaching the girls a routine, she, Klinger and some of the nurses were sewing sequins on little gowns for the girls to wear. Jessie figured the rather scanty majorette uniform would not go over well in Korea, so she adjusted accordingly.

Along with her regular duties, she stayed so busy that she did not have time to think. That was good. If she let herself, her mind would stray to Radar. And _that_ was dangerous territory!

**********************************

The day of the pageant was clear and bright. The children were thrilled with the sequins and chattered among themselves as they settled on colors and sizes. They were just as ecstatic about the batons, each one clutching the set of her choosing. Everyone was glad to see the girls so excited, and more than one head was turned as tears formed in their eyes.

The pageant itself went well, with everyone in the camp not on duty in attendance and several local families, as well. Jessie had split the girls, which now numbered around 30, into different age groups and skills. As each girl completed their routine, there were stomps, cheers and whistles from everyone in attendance. Jessie stayed off the makeshift stage and coached from below. However, Klinger, who insisted on his own outfit and routine, received the most cheers after his rather interesting routine, which consisted of mainly trying to keep his sequined uniform from falling off.

When the pageant was over, everyone went to mess tent to treat the children to cookies and milk-powdered, of course. The children received congratulations all around. After awhile, only a few nurses remained to help clean up the mess. Although it was just dark, she wearily returned to her tent and fell into her cot, asleep almost as soon as she got her arms around Radar's bear.

*****************************

Jessie was jolted awake by a loud explosion. She rolled off the cot and onto the floor in confusion, not sure what was going on. Then, there was flash of light and another explosion, sounding like it was right outside her door, and she put the pillow over her head as she struggled to breathe in the dusty air. _Mortars! _Attacks were quite common, despite the large red crosses on the tents that signaled a hospital, but this was her first.

Her first instinct was to dig a hole in the floor and stay there until the horrendous noise ceased. But, the sound of choppers also filled the air, and she knew she would have to leave the relative safety of her tent. She crawled over to her trunk and dug around frantically until she found a helmet. So far, it hadn't been needed for protection, but the nurses did try to make fudge in it once. She secured the bulky thing on her head and cautiously peeked out the door. People were beginning to emerge in response to the helicopters and buses pulling into the compound. As she struggled to her feet and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she wondered how they were supposed to operate as a hospital with bombs going off all around.

But, operate they did. The sound of shells exploding, sometimes in camp, continued throughout the night, despite all of Col. Potter's efforts on the phone to quell the danger. More than once, a shell would hit so close to the operating room that a window would explode and dust would blow into the room. Trying to keep the wounds clean was a fruitless effort.

Keeping her hands from shaking in fear of the next one landing on her head was also a fruitless effort. One of the nurses who had only been there a week collapsed into a screaming ball of terror when one of the shells exploded nearby, leaving Charles without a nurse. Margaret hauled the poor girl to her feet and demanded she control herself. For a moment, Jessie thought the Major was going to slap her. She felt sorry for the girl as she watched out of the corner of her eye when all efforts to control the girl's sobs failed. Finally, a disgusted Margaret sent her out of the OR with threats of a dishonorable discharge.

Margaret grabbed Jessie's arm, and she almost yelped. "Lieutenant, go help Major Winchester," Margaret demanded. "I'll take over here."

Jessie obediently took off her soiled gloves, replaced them and stood next to Charles.

"Scalpel," he said. Jessie immediately handed him the instrument, but couldn't control her shaking hands. Although she could have easily fallen into a shambles, after seeing the way Margaret had treated the new girl, she didn't dare.

Eight hours and hundreds of soldiers later, the wave of wounded slowed to a trickle. The bombs also subsided, and only an occasional explosion rocked the air. There was a sigh of relief as the last soldier was sewed up.

The relief didn't last long.

"Sir, we have injured locals!" Klinger said, racing in the door with a stretcher, followed by another orderly.

They plunked the stretcher down in front Col. Potter, who sighed. "Damn. Why is it always children?"

Jessie, who was busy with her equipment tray, was startled when another stretcher was laid in front of her on Charles's table. On it was a child. A girl.

She recoiled, pure horror running through her veins. The child, still wearing the sparkly outfit only hours before she had been so proud of, was missing both her legs.

"Sweet Jesus," Charles mumbled, checking for any signs of life. Finding a weak pulse, he started barking orders at Jessie.

Jessie was frozen in spot. She couldn't take her eyes off all the blood seeping onto the stretcher.

"Lieutenant!" Margaret yelled across the room.

Slowly, Jessie came to life and began prepping the patient who she had patiently taught to twirl only days before. She didn't know her name, she had only learned a few of their names. Now, she wished she had taken more time to get to know them all.

Charles worked frantically, she had to give him credit. Everything else in the room seemed to melt away and only saving this child mattered. She willed the girl to live with every breath she took, gritting her teeth as she tried to control her tears.

After a few minutes, he realized their efforts were fruitless.

She still couldn't take her eyes off the dead child. Everyone else in the room was quiet. Kelleye took the instruments from her hands as she stood there. All she could think about was death. Of a child. Of an _innocent_ child. She tore off her mask and stumbled from the stifling room

She ran blindly, ripping off her blood-splattered gown, stumbling through the camp, not really seeing where she was headed. With tears blinding her, she was determined to run until she could no longer see the broken and bloodied body on the operating table. The cold night air hurt her heaving lungs as she slid down a rocky embankment. The part of her mind that was still functioning realized she was near the helicopter pad and should stop. Beyond that was unfriendly territory.

Before she slid to the bottom, she slipped and fell. Instead of continuing her fruitless journey, she wrapped her arms around her bloodied knees and sobbed. _What have I done? Oh, God, what have I done?_

Back in camp, Radar was in a panic. Kelleye had found him in his office and breathlessly told him about the little girl in OR and Jessie's departure. Just the thought of anyone, but most especially Jessie, having to go through that made his blood run cold. He had been searching for her for almost a half hour, but to him, it seemed like an eternity.

As he racked his brain, trying to think of where she might be, his anxiety ballooned. His mind was muddled with all the horrific things that could have happened to her. So far, the shelling had not restarted, but if it did . . .

He stopped to take a break at the chopper pad, taking deep breaths. After calming himself for a minute, he thought he heard shuffling from the embankment. He peered over the side, but couldn't see anything but inky darkness. With thoughts of Jessie bleeding at the bottom, he slid down the side, rocks falling from underneath his boots. He was so relieved to find her at the bottom, unharmed, that he practically wept.

Jessie didn't even hear him behind her. She was still curled up with her forehead on her knees when he softly touched her shoulder.

She yelped and jumped away, instantly afraid. But, when she saw Radar's understanding eyes, tears once again spilled over. He sat down next to her and gathered her in his arms as she buried herself in his chest, trying to tell him between sobs what was wrong.

"I know, I know. Shh, it's OK," he just kept saying over and over, rocking her back and forth like a child. His relief at finding her unharmed turned to sadness at her pain.

She gave up trying to talk and cried into his jacket. It was too easy to believe the whispered words he said, that she was truly going to be fine. Truthfully, none of them were ever going to be the same. And that just made her cry harder.

Neither knew how long they stayed at the bottom of the embankment. Her sobs finally abated to occasional sniffles, and she began to recognize the discomfort of sitting on the cold hard ground.

Without a word, he stood up slowly and gave her his hand.

She took it and stood awkwardly, wincing as her bloodied knees throbbed.

"Hey, you're hurt! Wait here and I'll go get . . ." He turned to go, but she grabbed his arm.

"No, it's just a stupid scrape," she said, shaking her legs to ward of the pain. He still held onto her arm as they walked a few steps across the rocky landscape. "At least I can still _feel_ pain."

"Wait a minute," Radar said brusquely. He put his hands on her shoulders, making her face him, and took a deep breath. "This stuff happens here. You get attached to people. It's happened to all of us." He thought fleetingly of Henry Blake. "But, you can't let it be all you think about. If you do, it'll make you crazy."

Jessie snorted, very unladylike. _Ain't that the truth_.

Radar continued. "You just do what you can to save the ones you can. Think about the ones you can't save, but don't let that be all you think about."

Jessie bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. "But, it's so _hard_!" she replied, not meeting his gentle gaze. "I keep seeing her one minute wearing that stupid sparkling outfit, then the next minute I see her . . ." she stopped and took a ragged breath. "I've seen more death here to last ten lifetimes. But this innocent child . . ."

Radar grasped her shoulders tighter. "Hey. Look at me."

Jessie raised her eyes to his. Compassion was something she hadn't seen very much since arriving, and it startled her. Her first reaction was to burst into tears again and let him hold her, dangerous territory to be sure. So, she bit her tongue instead, fighting her initial impulse.

He could sense the battle she was fighting with herself, but couldn't tell the reason why. "It's not something you can forget fast. You have to give it time." He truthfully didn't know how much, since he was still having nightmares about his first day.

A light cut through the darkness. "Jessie! Radar!" Col. Potter called.

They jumped back from each other, but he grabbed her hand.

"Down here! I found her!"

"Damn it, son!" Col. Potter yelled, his light shining on the two at the bottom of the ravine. The both squinted when the beam hit their eyes. "I ought to throttle you both for disappearing like that!"

Radar squeezed her hand, and they returned to the relative safety of camp.

Everyone seemed to understand and had a kind word for her. Some even told their own personal stories of when this place got to them. It made Jessie feel a little less alone. Even Margaret didn't scold her much for vacating the OR, although she didn't have a story to tell.

_This place probably never gets to her_.

And Radar stayed right by her side until he walked her to her tent. He never said much or even touched her, but it was comforting enough just to know he was there.

***********************************

Jessie awoke stifling a scream and struggled to sit up in the darkened tent, throwing the heavy blanket off her body. Sweat was trickling down her sides as she put her feet on the floor and her head in her hands, trying to calm her wildly beating heart.

Sleep was hard to come by, and it wasn't even morning. The same horrific dream kept playing in her mind over and over. Bombs going off. She would try to run, but found herself surrounded by children, most missing arms and legs, and all reaching out for her and moaning. And the blood. It was everywhere.

She shivered in the dark tent, not wanting to attempt sleep again.

Peeking out the door, she saw a light still on in Radar's tent. Dismissing her misgivings, she threw on some clothes, grabbed her helmet and the last of some hot chocolate and snuck over to the mess tent. There, she grabbed two mugs and found some lukewarm water in the coffee pots. After mixing the last of the beverage in the two mugs, she snuck across camp. Balancing the mugs in her hands, she opened the door.

Radar was leaned over the desk, filling out paperwork, his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth in concentration.

"Your job never ends, does it?"

Radar jumped. "Geez, you scared me!" When he saw her, his annoyance faded. "Hey! Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

Jessie shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," she said, handing him one of the mugs.

"Bad dreams," he said, not really asking. He knew.

She nodded.

He took a sip and looked surprised. "This is actually good!"

She sat down on the corner of his desk. "It's came from home."

They sat in companionable silence.

She was the first to speak. "I'm glad you found me because I don't think I could make it back to camp by myself. I guess I'd have stayed out there all night." She shivered as she thought about her panicked run through camp. And the little girl. And her dreams.

He patted her leg. "You'd have done the same for me."

"If you go running off like that on me, I'm bound to throttle some sense into you," she joked. "Either that or scream and yell at you."

"I'll take the beating any day over the yelling," he said, draining his cup. "Yelling gives me a headache." He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm just sorry it happened."

"To any of us." _Especially the children_. She stood awkwardly. "But thanks. For being there. It meant more . . . means more than I realized."

Radar felt helpless. He knew about the nightmares. They all had them. But, as she stood before him, her big green eyes full of fear and uncertainty, he realized the most helpless feeling of all was that he could not in any way shield her from them. And he wanted to. With all his heart.

She gave him a small smile before heading out the door, back to bed. And her nightmares.

But, she almost yelped when he grabbed her before she could walk out the door.

An explosion in the middle of camp boomed seconds after they both tumbled behind his desk. A second and third one followed close behind as dust rose from the floor and papers fluttered around them. They clung to each other more for comfort than safety.

Another explosion filled the dusty air. They clutched each other a little tighter. The ground beneath them shook with each exploding shell.

Radar could sense the panic in the room, and he wasn't quite sure if it was hers or his. His eyes watered from the musty air. Another mortar screamed from the sky, and Jessie jumped. He held her tighter as she coughed. And tried not to think what a direct hit would do to the little room.

Another shell blew out a window, and Jessie stifled a scream, burying her face in his neck. She could feel his pulse racing. He hadn't shaved in awhile, and the stubble scuffed her cheek.

Later, she tried to blame sheer terror and exhaustion for what happened next. Still holding her tightly, he shifted, and she could feel his breath warm on her cheek. Almost instinctively, they both turned until their lips touched. When neither one pulled away, the kiss intensified, the two of them grateful for any diversion to the destruction raining down up on their heads.

They didn't even notice when the shelling stopped.

"Great balls of fire, Radar! Get on the phone to HQ and see what you can do to stop this shelling!" Col. Potter roared, entering the askew door. All he saw were two pairs of boots behind Radar's desk before they both scrambled from the floor, looking guilty.

"Yes, sir, I'll get right on it," Radar mumbled, his face bright red.

Jessie's helmeted head popped up from behind the desk.

"And you!" Col. Potter roared. "Get to post op and make sure no one's hurt!"

She struggled to stand. "Y-Yes sir," she stammered and skittered out the door, her heart hammering in her chest as she ran across camp. She tried to convince herself it was from the mortars, as she skirted a smoking crater.

But she knew that wasn't it.

Thankfully, aside from some confusion and a few upset wounded, the camp soon settled down.

Settling down in her tent- with her helmet on – Jessie lay back with her hands behind her head.

For some reason after everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, the kiss seemed to have her in the most unsettled state. She tried to tell herself she didn't mean for it to happen. It was just the heat of the moment, bombs going off, death imminent, that sort of thing. She was exhausted. The last thing she wanted to do was start something during a war of all places!

But, no one, not even Mark, held her like that-like they _actually_ cared for her. It was strange, but she swore she could actually feel that in his lips on hers. A little voice in her head kept saying, "Yeah, he likes you for you, but you're lying to him, not telling him you're filthy stinking rich."

Jessie flopped over on the creaky cot and took a deep breath, silencing her inner demons. Exhaustion had a way of doing that. Within minutes she was sound asleep.

****************************************

There was more to the dream this time. Actually, it had definitely traveled into nightmare territory now. It had additional images added together to make it seem frighteningly real.

A Korean, her long skirt wrapping unnaturally around Jessie, almost like a claw, watched him with hatred on her face. Jessie's eyes pled with his, but he didn't know why. He couldn't get to her; his feet felt like they were blocks of concrete. But, he knew he had to save her.

This time when the gun went off, he knew it wasn't someone firing a pistol in the compound.

But, he sure wished it was. Anything to rid his mind of the look of terror on Jessie's face.

**************************************

Fun with foreshadowing! Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

The Swamp was filled with cigar smoke and the stench of really bad liquor from the homemade still squatting unceremoniously in the corner. A couple of people lay passed out on the nearby cots. Although it was almost dawn, a poker game in the middle of the tent was going on strong.

"OK, aces and deuces wild," Klinger said as he munched on a cigar and shuffled the worn deck of cards. He dealt to the motley crew slouched around the make-shift table.

"What's your bid, Beej?" Hawkeye said, tossing a couple of bucks onto the table.

B.J. waved his hand without looking up. "Not this round," he mumbled, his head in his arms.

Col. Potter and Radar tossed in a couple of bucks.

Klinger also folded. "Too rich for me," he said. He nudged Charles's cot and earned an annoyed moan. "We need to teach old Chuckles here how to play. All his dough would come in handy 'round here."

"Gimme two," Col. Potter said, taking the cards from Klinger. He shuffled them around in his hand. "So, what're we going to do about the so-called friendly bet with the 8063rd? Anyone here know anyone with some talent for the talent show?"

Hawkeye took one card from Klinger and raised three dollars. "We could enter Klinger as our local fashion expert."

Klinger snorted. He was wearing a sweater he knitted himself and a poodle skirt, which he made just for poker night. "Unless it'll get me my section 8, don't count on it," he said. "Hey, Colonel, does Sophie know any tricks?"

Col. Potter chuckled. "Not by a long shot. She's just your regular, run-of-the-mill horse." He laid his cards on the table. "Straight. Beat that, boys!"

"Umm, sorry, sir, but umm, well. . ." Radar laid his cards on the table. A full house.

Col. Potter cursed. "You sure have been on a lucky streak tonight."

Radar didn't reply as he gathered up the money on the table.

Potter got a mischievous look in his eye. "Speaking of lucky, you gonna use that money to buy your girl something nice?"

There were hoots and hollers all around.

"Would you degenerates shut up!" Charles said, putting a pillow over his head at the racket.

"Jessie is _not_ my girl! Sir," Radar said, looking cross.

"How did you know the Colonel was talking about Jessie?" Hawkeye said merrily, draining the last of his homemade gin.

Radar blushed. "I, um, just assumed, that, well . . ." He sighed heavily and put his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. "Well, she hasn't even _talked_ to me since that night the bombs went off in camp!"

"You mean the night I caught you two dallying behind your desk?" Col. Potter said, idly shuffling his cards.

"Colonel!" Radar said, blushing to the tips of his ears.

"You _what_?" Charles said, sitting straight up in his cot.

"Yes, Radar, do tell," Hawkeye said, leaning back in his chair. "I love a good bedtime story."

"No! I mean yes! I mean, we kissed, but no I'm not going to tell you about it!" Radar stammered.

"The girl must have had a momentary lack of judgment," Charles muttered.

"Don't be jealous, Charles," B.J. said. "So, Radar, have you actually tried talking to her?"

Radar fidgeted with the bills in his hand, ignoring Charles. "Well, yeah, but she's either busy or working, and we just don't talk like we used to. I don't really know what to do."

B.J. patted the distraught boy on the shoulder. "Sounds like to me she's just as nervous as you are. Give it some time, and she'll come around."

Radar looked unconvinced. "You think so, sir?"

"Sure," Hawkeye said. "She must like you because I sure can't get her to go out with me!"

Radar glared at Hawkeye as he gathered up his money, stuffing it in his pockets. "I think that's all I can take for tonight, _sir_," he said, as he huffed out the door.

"Well, well, well, our little Radar has grown up," Col. Potter said.

Hawkeye poured another round of gin for everyone at the table.

The Colonel took a sip and made a face. "You know, I really like the girl. She's been a top notch nurse, and even Margaret has had no complaints." He took another sip. "But, I get the feeling there is something she's not telling us."

"Hey, maybe she's got a secret outlandish talent that'll win us that trophy back from the 8063rd," Klinger said. "You know, like tightrope walking or something."

"We sure need someone with some talent to beat that nurse of theirs," Potter said. "She looks like a vixen and sings like songbird." He laughed aloud. "Remember last year when we pitted Margaret against that girl? Made us look like a bunch of hokies."

Klinger stood up. "Sorry, guys, but I go on duty in an hour. Got to freshen up. I made a new dress last night, gingham, maybe I'll wear that," He sauntered out the door, planning his attire.

"Guess we all need to hit the hay," Col. Potter said, standing and stretching. "Maybe we'll come up with somebody to beat that gal over at the 8063rd."

As he walked out he heard Charles mumble "I can't _believe_ she actually kissed him."

************************************************

Fighting increased dramatically the next week. Jessie found herself working two 40-hour shifts in surgery, with only a couple hours sleep in between. Although it was difficult not to fall apart, she gritted her teeth and lived with it. After all, everyone else did in their own strange and peculiar ways, so why couldn't she?

And she would never, ever admit it, but deep down inside, she missed Radar.

After the second shift, she and the other nurses cleaned up the OR with the orderlies. A few chose to go straight to bed, but Jessie, Kelleye and Chris opted for the mess tent. Except for a few bites taken in a rush over the past three days, they had eaten nothing.

The weather had a cool tinge to it, so they gathered their coats before strolling wearily to the mess tent. Since it was after the dinner hour, it was fairly deserted.

They chose a table as far away from the door and the autumn breeze as possible and settled in.

"So, Jess, what to you think of our home-away-from-home so far?"

Jessie suspiciously eyed a lump of potatoes on her plate, taking a bite and grimacing. Reluctantly, she took another. "I don't think I've had time to think about it."

"If you had time to react to it, you might run screaming into the night, don't you think?" Chris said. Of the three of them, she had been at the 4077th longer.

"Yeah, and right into a North Korean tank!"

Jessie looked up in time to see Radar dejectedly entering the tent. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at a nearby table, his shoulders slumped. He looked as weary as she felt.

"Got any mail lately?" Kelleye asked, startling Jessie back to the conversation.

"Um, yeah, I think." Jessie dug in her pocket and pulled out a handful of letters, most with Texas postmarks. "Radar brought these to me while I was in post-op this morning. Or yesterday. Or whenever it was." He had handed them to her and walked away without a word. Of course, it wasn't like she actually tried to talk to him, either. She felt like she should comment on what happened the night of the bombing, but didn't quite know what to say.

_Maybe that you liked it?_

"I got one from my sister in Detroit," Chris said, waving a letter in the air, once again drawing Jessie back into the conversation. "She had her baby!"

"Oh, that's great!" Jessie said, meaning it.

"Named the poor thing Billie Sue."

Jessie choked on her coffee. "Are you serious?"

Chris made a face, and Kelleye laughed. "Yeah, can you believe it? That child will have to live with that name for the rest of her life!"

Kelleye sobered up for a moment. "Speaking of Billy, do you remember that soldier that came in with the bad head wound? The one that Hawkeye operated on?"

Jessie searched through her muddled brain. All the wounded seem to blend together. "Yeah, I think so. William Something-or-other, wasn't it?"

"What about him?" Chris asked.

"He died early this morning. Blood clot."

Jessie put her coffee mug down with a thump. "Wasn't that the one that Radar had made friends with?"

"That's him," Kelleye said. They all glanced in Radar's direction. "Poor guy, I think he's taking it pretty hard."

Chris shook her head. "Damn war." She stood up with her half-empty tray. "Well, that's all the torture I can stand. I'm heading for the showers."

"I think I'm going straight to bed," Kelleye said.

Jessie shook her head. "You guys go on. Leave some hot water for me, will you? Oh, and congratulations, Chris, on your new niece."

"Thanks. I just hope I live long enough to meet her."

"I hope you do, too."

Jessie shivered as the cool wind filled the tent as the two girls exited, leaving her and Radar alone inside. He was staring morosely into his coffee cup, both hands curled around it for warmth.

By the way he was sitting, Jessie knew he was upset. It was hard to lose a patient, but it was even harder when you went against better judgment and got to know them personally.

Radar knew she was there, then hated himself for even paying her any attention.

He hated it even more when his heart jumped when she rose and walked in his direction.

"Mind if I join you?"

He shrugged, hoping to appear indifferent.

She settled across from him, trying to think of something to say. _There was a lot between them that certainly needed to be said . . ._

She cleared her throat. "You know, Klinger was running around here the other day reading tea leaves. Have you taken up reading coffee grounds, perhaps?"

Although he didn't look up, Jessie saw a hint of a smile on his face. It pained her to see him hurting, but pained her even more to know that she even cared.

"I'm sorry about Billy. The two of you seemed to get along well." She blurted it out before she regretted saying it.

"Yeah. Thanks." Radar remained staring at his empty coffee cup forlornly.

Against her better judgment, Jessie reached out and touched his wrist. "If you want to talk about it . . ."

He looked at her pointedly, ignoring the fact that just her touch made his heart race. "Why would you want to talk now when you haven't talked to me in days?"

She let go, hurt. "OK. I guess I deserved that." She shifted on the cold bench, uncomfortable in the silence. "I guess I'll see you around, then."

"Yeah. I guess so."

Jessie walked out the door, the sky looking just as morose as she felt.

As soon as she got back to her clammy tent and lit a fire in the woodstove, the rain started. Deciding against going back out into the muck to take a shower and feeling a little lonely to boot, she put on an old flannel hunting shirt of Mark's, more for comfort purposes than anything else. It came to her knees, so she was warm, especially when she curled up next to the woodstove to read her letters from home.

After savoring all the news, she replied to each of them. As usual, she carefully avoided any mention of war, instead trying to paint a bright picture for her friends and family. However, after her short conversation with Radar, she was having a hard time being cheerful and gave up. Extinguishing the light, she fell into her cot, trying to get some sleep before the next barrage of wounded arrived.

Her aching muscles and whirling thoughts kept her awake. Although the pattering of rain on the tent was usually soothing, it made her feel even more alone than before.

Sighing, she tossed in her cot, trying to get comfortable in the dark.

A knock on her door startled her. At first, she thought it was her imagination, only the rain falling harder outside. The second knock jolted her fully awake and grumbling, she walked to the door, not even bothering with a robe.

"Who is it?"

"It's me. Walter."

Surprised, she unlatched the door and opened it, pulling him inside before the rain could soak the inside of the tent. Although he was wearing a parka, he looked drenched.

"What in the world are you doing in this mess?" More worried about him being out in the middle of the night, she didn't even think about the issues plaguing their floundering friendship as she sat him down by the woodstove and tossed some wood scraps into the sputtering flames. She threw his soggy raincoat into the corner.

Although she may have been oblivious to their situation, he sure was not. But, it might have made it easier if he was. "Well, I decided to go for a walk . . ."

"In the rain?"

"It wasn't raining when I started walking. I just kept walking after it started. It wasn't all that bad."

Jessie gingerly sat on the edge of her cot, waiting for him to continue. There was more. She knew it.

He glanced over and tried not to notice that when she sat, the shirt rode higher up her leg. He tore his gaze away and took a deep breath, pulling off his glasses and wiping the moisture from them. The sadness and longing made him feel mixed up inside, giving him a headache. "I decided I _did_ want to talk to someone about Billy. He was just fine one minute, then he was gone. It was all so . . .so final."

_He doesn't want to talk about us._ Relieved and disappointed, all at the same time, Jessie realized that not all the wetness on his cheeks was from the rain. She handed him a tissue, which he gratefully accepted, as she spoke. "It never stops flooring me how one minute you're here, then the next minute, you're . . . just . . . not."

He sniffed loudly. "I couldn't really talk to the guys. I didn't want them to laugh or anything." He took another deep breath. "And, you're the only real friend I have here that's not a guy. Or, I thought you were. I don't really know. It seems like everyone who really cares about me is thousands of miles away."

Regret. It wasn't an easy pill to swallow. Avoiding him all this time wasn't the answer. What the answer actually was, she had no clue. But, before she could open her mouth to reply, he jumped up, grabbing his parka in the corner. "Listen, I'm sorry I bothered you. It won't happen again, I promise."

His sudden retreat astonished her to the point she almost didn't react in time. But, she managed to reach him before he barged out the door. "Walter, wait." Grabbing his arm, she managed to stop him in her doorway.

Dripping with rain, he stood directly in front of her, looking almost as uncertain as she did.

There was no way his mind could be as muddled as hers. A thousand thoughts swirled inside her head. First and foremost was the fact that it made no sense to fall for someone in a war zone. Second was the fact that she wanted him to kiss her again. As he watched her, she hesitantly reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingertips.

He just couldn't help himself. He needed her. Hungrily, his lips met hers.

He was a little surprised when she returned the embrace just as eagerly.

All the loneliness and hopelessness they both endured on a day-to-day basis increased their desire for comfort as they recklessly threw caution to the wind and clung to each other desperately, searching for reassurance.

She could taste the tears he had shed, and for some strange reason, that only made her want him more.

_You're going to regret this_, the little sing-song voice in her head kept whispering. But, she found it easy to disregard, along with the fear and anxiety that had been her constant companions since she set foot in Korea, especially when he found the sensitive spot at the curve of her neck. She gasped, her muddled brain trying to remember if Mark – or any other guy, for that matter - was ever this tuned in to her needs.

It surprised Radar to realize he knew what she wanted - pure, raw instinct that always seemed to elude him in the past kicking in with gusto. It didn't escape him that perhaps he just needed to find the right woman first.

_Wait a minute . . ._

Unexpectedly and to her disappointment, he stopped.

She struggled to catch her breath. "What is it?" She strained to listen as she steadied herself by grasping his arms, but all she heard was water dripping off the tent.

"Choppers." Suddenly embarrassed in a situation he had only dreamed about being in, he stepped away from her, also trying to catch his breath as the sound of helicopter blades filled the air. Without another word, he disappeared into the night, leaving her to wonder what in the world just happened.

***********************************

"Suction."

"Suction."

Col. Potter deftly sewed up a bleeding artery as Jessie assisted. The rain had started up again and pattered cheerfully on the metal roof of OR. But, the scene inside was anything but cheerful. Once again, they had withstood hours of operating. It seemed there was no end to the number of wounded the orderlies kept bringing inside. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep.

Klinger and Radar brought in a wounded soldier and put him at B.J.'s table. "Colonel, that's the last one." Radar said.

"Good. I don't think my corns can take much more of this."

"Yes sir."

Jessie glanced up from sewing the last of the soldier's wounds and saw Radar watching her from across the room. Quickly, she averted her eyes, feeling her face grow warm.

_I wonder what would have happened if the choppers hadn't shown up . . . _

Honestly - she had a pretty good idea.

"Lieutenant, are you coming down with something? You look mighty peaked."

"N-no sir. Just tired." She refused to meet his gaze.

Col. Potter didn't believe her for a moment. He snapped his gloves off his hand, flexing his fingers. "Radar, help the Lieutenant here clean up. She looks like she must be coming down with something."

He had seen Radar emerge from Jessie's tent, looking more than a little disheveled, then Jessie rushing into the rain, looking just as tousled. At Jessie's horrified look, his suspicions were confirmed.

"I'm fine, Colonel!" she protested, glancing over at Radar, who had the same deer-in-the-headlight look.

Major Houlihan startled her from behind. "Lieutenant, if you are getting ill, you are not to be in her contaminating the patients!"

Jessie wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. "I'm fine, Major, really! It's just stuffy in here, and I got a little hot, that's all!"

Hawkeye spoke up from across the room. "First time I've heard someone say there were hot since summer. What about you, Beej?"

"I haven't been warm in weeks."

"Stay out of this, Captain!" Margaret ordered sharply. She glanced at Radar. "Corporal, are you ignoring the Colonel's order? He said to help the Lieutenant!"

Flummoxed, Radar reddened. "No, ma'am. Sir. I mean yes, ma'am . . . sir." Obediently, he began to help Jessie as she sorted used surgical equipment to be sterilized. But, he didn't dare look at her.

Jessie tried to hurry. She felt like all the eyes in the room were on the two of them. And she didn't like it. Not one bit.

Not paying attention, they both reached for the same utensil, and their fingers touched. Both of them jumped backwards like scalded cats, the clamp clanging loudly back onto the tray.

Now, Jessie _knew_ all eyes were on them.

She swallowed. "Sorry," she muttered, doggedly returning to the task.

"Yeah, me, too," Radar whispered hoarsely.

Jessie wondered what exactly they were apologizing for.


	7. Chapter 7

Wow! A shorter chapter! Imagine that!

**************************

Radar walked over to the supply tent with trepidation. He stood with his hand on the door, chewing his lip, trying to once again gain the courage to face Jessie. It didn't seem like it was only last night when he was in her tent and . . .

That's when he heard it. He cocked his head, straining to hear. "Peace in the Valley." The melody fluttered through the cracks in the building, and sounded so peaceful he couldn't help by sigh.

_I haven't heard singing that beautiful since the talent show last year . . ._

"The talent show!" he said aloud, forgetting his anxiety as he threw open the door. The singing immediately stopped.

"I didn't know you could sing!"

Jessie had an armful of bandages and paused as she was putting them on the shelf. "You never asked." She looked over at his eager face and her heart ached. She had avoided him, hoping the feelings she had had for him would just go away. They hadn't.

_Damn_.

"We need to go see the Colonel!" he said, grabbing her arm. She dropped the bandages as he dragged her out the door.

"Wait, I can't! Major Houlihan will kill me!" she said, stumbling to catch up.

But, Radar wasn't to be deterred.

He dragged her across camp and into his office. They barged through Col. Potter's double doors, where an officer's meeting was in full swing.

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have got to hear this!" Radar said.

Jessie peeked over his shoulder at a bemused Colonel Potter and staff. Everyone except Margaret, who was glaring at Jessie, obviously thinking she was shirking her duties.

Radar grabbed Jessie's hand and pushed her in front of him. "Show them."

Jessie turned and looked at him quizzically. "You mean . . . sing?" she said, trying to figure out why it mattered.

He nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Umm - OK," Jessie said, turning back towards the group. Everyone looked at her expectantly. She cleared her throat and sang "Amazing Grace." Simple enough, yet melodic.

A slow grin started at Col. Potter's face. As she finished the first verse, the group applauded, including Margaret, though reluctantly. Charles's eyes lit up, delighted with her talent. Radar beamed from behind her.

"That was beautiful!" Father Mulcahy said, wiping a tear from his eyes.

"Marvelous, simply marvelous," Hawkeye said.

"She's alright," Margaret sniffed.

Col. Potter rose from his desk and put his arm around a quite confused Jessie. "Lieutenant, you have earned the honor of representing the 4077th at the talent show on Friday!"

Jessie's eyes widened. "I don't know . . ."

"Hell, yes, you do know!" Col. Potter said, slapping her back. "Except, do you know something besides church songs?"

"Umm - sure, sir."

"You'll do great, just great," Col. Potter said.

Jessie caught Margaret's eye and took the hint. "Sir, I need to get back to the supply tent," she said, pulling away from his grasp. She slipped by Radar, as she walked out the door.

"Just be ready by Friday!" Col. Potter called. He slapped his hands together. "Hot damn, I can just see that trophy now!"

Radar followed Jessie out the door, his anxiety forgotten.

"How come I've never heard you before?" he said to her back.

Jessie paused. "I guess I just haven't felt like singing since I've been here."

"We'd have never have won that trophy if Major Houlihan had to sing again." He rolled his eyes, and Jessie laughed.

"That bad, huh?" she said, and he nodded eagerly.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"So, did you need to see me? You were – uh – outside the supply tent . . ." she said, crossing her arms protectively.

Radar's nervousness returned. "Well, I – uh - wanted to know –" He trailed off. Why did this have to be so damn hard?

Jessie glanced up at the clock on the wall. She tried, but couldn't come up with any excuse not to see him. _Chicken_. "Can we talk about it later? If I don't get back before the Major comes out of that office, I'm toast."

"Uh-sure," he said, disappointed.

"Stop by a little after 8. I should be there." She avoided his earnest gaze as she pushed open the door, returning to her duty.

*************************************

Jessie nervously looked at her watch. 8:46. She thumbed through the book she had been pretending to read for the past twenty minutes and tossed it onto the cot. Replaying the earlier discussion in her head, she figured Radar might not show. She didn't exactly give him the friendliest cues. And she was disappointed. Then, she was angry at herself for being disappointed.

She jumped when she heard a faint knock on the door and hurriedly picked up the book, studying a page closely.

"Come in," she said, hoping she looked disinterested.

Hawkeye and B.J. entered.

"Oh. It's you."

"Well, you don't have to sound so thrilled," Hawkeye said, eying her tent.

She shut her book with a thud and sat up on her cot.

"Nice digs," B.J. said, looking around.

"Yeah, you ought to try cleaning yours up every once in awhile."

"What? Mess with perfection?" Hawkeye looked surprise. "Surely, you jest?"

She stood, crossing her arms across her chest. She really didn't want them to be around when Radar showed up. If he showed up. "Look, if you just came by to see my tent, you've seen it. Unless you have something else to tell me, then vamoose."

"Oh, we actually are the bearer of a message from the bespeckled one," B.J. retorted. "He's tied up with Col. Potter right now, but he said he'd stop by later."

"Disappointed?" Hawkeye said, raising an eyebrow at Jessie. "Big plans?"

Jessie blew a strand of hair out of her face. She _was_ disappointed. "You've delivered your message. Now, would you just _leave_?" she said, walking to the door and holding it open, ignoring Hawkeye's comments altogether.

Hawkeye held his hands in front of him. "Now, now, we didn't come here just for that. We came here to talk, too."

She slowly shut the door, crossing her arms once again suspiciously.

"Well, the whole camp has been abuzz with some gossip lately that we thought might interest you," Hawkeye said.

She didn't like where this was going and narrowed her eyes. "What gossip?"

Hawkeye rocked back on his heels. "It seems that you and Radar are having – what shall we call it – a lover's spat."

"A _what_?" She put her hands on her hips. "Don't believe all the gossip you hear, _Captains!_ And for your information, Radar and I are just friends!" _I think._

"Oh, really," B.J. said, inspecting his fingernails. "That's not what I heard."

Jessie sighed, reluctantly playing along. "OK, B.J., what is it you heard?"

"Well, we were _informed_ that you and Radar got a little cozy the other night."

Her eyes widened.

"During the shelling," Hawkeye added slyly.

"Oh! I thought you were talking about . . ." she started, then blushed furiously as the two doctors laughed.

"Oh, ho, so that wasn't the only time, was it?"

She could have slugged him. "It's none of your business!"

"Ahh, you don't deny it then?" Hawkeye said, enjoying her discomfort.

She glared at him. "Look, I don't want to talk about it, especially with you two! Now, scram!" She gestured towards the door.  
B.J. elbowed Hawkeye in the ribs. "Forgive him. He wasn't toilet trained until he was drafted. What my colleague _means_ to say is that we all knew there was something between the two of you long before we started hearing any latrine-o-grams."

She looked at her filthy boots. "What makes you think so?"

"Come on, Jess, the two of you are thick as thieves. Up until recently, if you saw one, you saw the other."

"Yeah, sort of like miniature Chinese twins," Hawkeye quipped.

She gave him a dark look. "Well, thanks for being interested in my – um, love life, but I'm not taking relationship advice."

B.J. shook his head. "Look, there's no denying that you two like each other. Radar's a good guy. What's wrong with taking it a step further?"

"Or two or three?" Hawkeye added.

_Because I'm a big fat squawking chicken, that's why_. She took a deep breath. Why not admit it? "Maybe I'm scared." There, she said it.

"Scared? Of Radar?" Hawkeye said. B.J. elbowed him in the ribs again. Hawkeye gave his bunkmate a dirty look, rubbing his side.

Jessie motioned at the door. "Have you both looked around recently? People are dying left and right! We're all scared, lonely, depressed and a little crazy. This isn't the time or place for . . ."

"For what? Finding a little comfort where you can get it?" Hawkeye interrupted, gazing intently at her. "Jess, we could all die tomorrow. Hell, we could die in the next 10 minutes! There's nothing wrong with finding someone to escape it all with."

_But, I really like him_. _What if it gets more serious than that?_ She broke his gaze. She didn't want to admit _that_ much."So, is that what you call what you do to every nurse in this camp? Getting away from it all?"

"Well, someone's got to do it," Hawkeye retorted.

B.J. rolled his eyes. "Look, we all know you like him. Just talk to him. The poor kid's about to pine himself into a stupor."

"Yeah, right," she said. She held open the door. "Now, leave! Please!"

They mock saluted her as they marched out the door.

*****************************************

The first burst of gunfire startled Jessie into wakefulness.

The second round made her hit the floor, knocking everything from her nightstand in the process. She reached for the toppled lamp, but thought better of it, not wanting to bring more attention to her tent by lighting it up. She pulled the clock closer to her eyes to better see it in the dark and realized she hadn't been asleep for long.

And Radar had never showed up.

Another burst of gunfire made her duck out of pure instinct. She prayed she would not have to venture out when the yelling started.

"Help! Someone help! My lieutenant's been shot!" The panicked voice carried well through the canvas.

Jessie cursed the timing and struggled from the floor, rummaging in the dark for her helmet. Her heart pounding in her chest, she took a deep breath and left the relative safety of her tent. Again.

It was pandemonium. People were running about, trying to get somewhere safe before the gunman – or gunmen – started shooting again.

Another shot ricocheted into a light, which sparked and went out as Jessie darted underneath it, trying to run without being such a large target.

Margaret was already leaning over the side of a jeep, inspecting the wound on a comatose solider on a stretcher in the back when Jessie skidded to a halt.

"Orderlies!" Margaret demanded, acting like it was just a regular day at the 4077th, and bullets were not whizzing by her head. "Where are those damn orderlies?"

Almost instantly, two rather young and very scared men appeared.

Margaret glowered at them. "Take him to OR and prep him. And go get Captain Pierce. On the double!"

More afraid of the head nurse than the sniper, they obediently complied.

Jessie grabbed the arm of another man standing impatiently nearby. "Let's get inside, Corporal. We're sitting ducks out here."

For a moment, he wouldn't budge. "He'll be alright, won't he? Lieutenant Powell's saved our asses plenty of times . . ."

Jessie didn't get a good look at the wound before the man was hauled off, but she sure wanted to get this guy - and herself – inside where it was relatively safe. "I'm sure he'll be fine . . ."

They hit the ground as more shots buzzed by. Jessie could hear them clanging into the metal of the jeep, the ground and everywhere it seemed. Her self-preservation instincts kicked in during a lull – the bastard was probably reloading – and she grabbed the corporal's arm again and pulled.

"C'mon, or we'll be in worse shape than your lieutenant!"

When he didn't move, she tugged harder. "Look, you can't stay . . ." She finally looked over at him and gasped.

Looking at her own coat, she saw the blood and gore. For a split second, she thought she had been hit, but forcing herself to focus, she realized it wasn't hers. Although the bullet had entered his head through the temple and blew half his brains out, she automatically checked for a pulse, then chided herself for it.

Although bullets seemed like they were falling from the sky, Jessie remained rooted to the spot, blood pounding in her ears so hard, she almost didn't hear them thunking around her.

_I wonder who he was. If he had a family. Children. A wife . . ._

_It could have been me!_

_And it will be if I don't get out of here!_

Adrenaline pumping, she started to rise, wanting to get as far away from this dead stranger as possible.

She had only gone a few steps when the explosion hurled her into the wall of a nearby building. Because it was a permanent structure, not a tent, instead of collapsing, it knocked the wind out of her. For a moment and despite the heat creeping over her, she could only lay there, her ears ringing, trying to catch her breath and wondering what in the world happened.

The jeep had erupted into a fireball, flames reaching high into the night sky.

A voice in her head screamed to get away from the burning pile of metal, but her body wouldn't cooperate after two difficult shocks – physical and mental – to her system. Just five minutes ago, she was relatively safe in her cot, and now . . . well, now she was battered, bruised, covered in someone else's brain, some stranger was out to kill her . . .

She leaned her head back against the building, the heat from the fire hot on her cheeks, as she tried not to lose whatever wits she had left.


	8. Chapter 8

Radar had been in the supply tent when the shooting started, one lone sniper wrecking havoc within the normally quiet compound. By the time he found an extremely upset Colonel Potter, the ground shook when the jeep exploded. Someone yelled that someone was near the jeep when it burst into a ball of fire.

It was Jessie. He knew it.

Her shock and fear rolled over him like a heavy blanket, and he tried to focus on it to find her. But, he could not enter the compound. The fire and the shooting made it virtually impossible to venture out. Frustrated, all he could do was try to focus on Colonel Potter's barked orders without panicking.

For once, the Army worked in their favor. There was a platoon nearby who dispatched a group to take care of the sniper. After another furious blast of gunfire, all was silent.

Ever resourceful, the 4077th jumped into action. Unfortunately, this was not the first sniper attack they had experienced.

Colonel Potter issued orders, everything from calling I-Corp to complain about the shoddy lack of protection to ordering new building supplies to repair the tents and other facilities that had been damaged.

Not a procrastinator by nature, Radar generally followed orders quite well. But this time, the first chance he got, he stole out into the compound to find her. He couldn't concentrate until he knew.

The fire was almost out by now, a bucket brigade of orderlies hard at work extinguishing it. The bullet struck the extra gas can on the jeep causing the inferno.

Radar wanted to ask someone if they knew where she was, but everyone bustled about, busy getting the camp back in order. He had to catch someone.

_No, I haven't seen her. Have you tried the mess tent? OR? There were a couple of wounded in the compound at the time, so maybe she's in OR. Hey, did you hear someone almost bought it when the jeep exploded?_

Radar hated that last comment, practically taking off in a blind run towards OR.

********************************************************

"Look, guys, I'm fine! See?" Jessie practically pirouetted around the gurney in pre-op.

Her bravado was mostly an act, but she still didn't want them fussing over her any more than they had to.

Charles took the hint. "I think she's just fine, Hunnicutt," he sniffed.

"See, the Major believes me! What'll it take to make you believe me?"

B.J. looked doubtful. "How many fingers am I holding?"

She rolled her eyes. "Two, if my first grade attendance serves me correctly."

He grinned while Charles shook his head and went to the next patient, all victims of the sniper attack and explosion.

"Didn't know you Texans could even read."

"We had to count our cows, so cipherin' was one of the first subjects we learned." Jessie found it soothing to fall into the old pattern of obnoxious comments that the nurses always had with the doctors. Anything to calm her nerves.

She sat outside after the explosion just long enough to compose herself before struggling into the nearest building, which happened to be pre-op. Covered in soot and blood, the nurses immediately assumed she had been seriously wounded. That's how she found herself trying to convince B.J. otherwise.

"I still want to take a look at this place on the back of your shoulder. It could get infected with . . . well with . . ." he motioned towards her filthy jacket.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Go on into OR, and Hawkeye'll take care of you."

She removed her jacket, not wanting the gory thing any longer, and complied. Hawkeye and Charles had set up a makeshift bandaging facility in OR. Wearing only the tank top and flannel pants she was soundlessly sleeping in earlier, - boy that seemed like eons ago! - she settled on the first gurney she saw and waited for her turn.

Since most of the wounds were not serious, it cleared out quickly.

"Ah ha, saving the best for last, I see." Hawkeye examined the wound on her back. "Hurt any?"

"Yeah, some." The adrenaline was wearing thin, and exhaustion was close.

"Well, it doesn't look like there's any shrapnel left in there, so I'll clean you up, bandage you, and you'll be on your merry way."

"Great. Just peachy."

He stopped collecting bandages and antiseptic long enough to look at her.

"Jess, you sure you're OK?"

She opened her mouth to tell him to mind his own business for the second time that night, but stopped. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Strangely enough. Or scarily enough, maybe. But, yeah, I'm OK."

Although she couldn't see him while he worked on her shoulder, he looked at her like he understood. "After awhile, this place doesn't get to you . . ."

"And that gets to you," Jessie finished.

"You catch on fast."

"Unfortunately."

******************************************

The only person in pre-op was B.J., scrubbing his hands in the sink. Bloody towels and clothes were strewn about the normally neat room, but none of the mess quite sunk into Radar's mind, especially after he honed in on one article of clothing tossed haphazardly on the floor.

He picked it up gingerly, praying it did not belong to who he thought it did.

It was torn, but the lieutenant's stripes were obvious. There was some hope it wasn't hers until he saw 'Callahan' almost obscured by blood and what looked suspiciously like something he didn't even want to comprehend.

_But, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. The nightmare . . ._

Radar didn't realize until then how certain he was about the nightmare he had been plagued with since Jessie's arrival.

He started to shake.

"So, what's the verdict on the sniper, Radar?" B.J. hunted for a clean towel. He had his back to the corporal and didn't notice his obvious distress until he did not reply. "Radar? You OK?"

Radar took as deep a breath as he could, trying not to panic. Or cry. He couldn't stand to cry in front of B.J. He clutched the filthy piece of clothing to his chest, oblivious to the stains. As crazy as it sounded, he could have swore he smelt her perfume from the gore-covered jacket.

B.J. didn't realize what obviously had Radar so upset. "Are you hurt?"

"I . . . um . . . was looking for . . . for . . ." He couldn't quite get it out. He didn't want to hear the final verdict, couldn't stand to have those words spoken that would make her just plain gone.

It finally dawned on B.J. "She's in there." He motioned towards OR. "Hawkeye's

working . . ."

Knowing she might still be alive, and that Hawkeye was trying to keep her that way, spurred him into action. Despite the fact it had been drilled into his head that he did not enter OR without a mask, he slammed through the door, expecting the worst and not truly knowing if he could handle it.

But, he didn't quite understand the scene before him. There were no bodies laid out on table, white-clad nurses and doctors scurrying about. Nothing like that at all.

Hawkeye turned around at the sound of the door banging loudly into the wall as he was finishing the sutures on the cut on Jessie's shoulder.

She turned her head slightly, but could not tell who it was, not wanting to wiggle as long as Hawkeye had a needle in his hands.

"Good Lord, Radar, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

Radar didn't quite know what to do. He had convinced himself that she was either seriously injured or dead – B.J. said she was in OR, so what was he supposed to think? - and his panicked mind attempted to put the brakes on his wildly beating heart. So, for a moment, all he could do was just stand there.

When Radar didn't reply, she knew something was amiss. She tried to turn around now that Hawkeye was finished with the stitches. "Be still! I can't put my finishing touches on this delicious skin of yours with you moving around like a jumping bean!"

She turned, despite Hawkeye's protest, long enough to catch the look on Radar's face, seeing him jump when B.J. put his hand on his arm, almost as if he was jolting him back to reality.

Before she could open her mouth, Radar was gone. Tossing the jacket on the floor where he found it, he fled into the compound.

"What in the world was that all about?" Hawkeye groused, trying to get Jessie to be still. He finally threw up his hands in disgust. "I give up! Go! Vamoose! Get an infection for all I care!"

As Jessie nudged her jacket with the toe of her equally-filthy boot, she tried to comprehend what exactly was going on . With all the shocks she had to her system, her brain almost seemed as if it wouldn't fire correctly, and she had no answers.

Hawkeye walked up behind her. "Beej, what in the world was wrong? Do we need to corner the little guy and browbeat it out of him?"

B.J. cleared his throat. "He came in here a few minutes ago and made a beeline for her jacket here. After he saw it, I think he thought . . . well . . .you know."

She shut her eyes against a headache beginning in her temples. "This has been one royally screwed up day."

"He ever stop by to see you earlier?" B.J. asked.

She shook her head.

"You know, you look like you could use a nap. Maybe a shower first, but then definitely a nap. I'm pretty good with both, you know." Hawkeye never was one to mince words.

"Yeah, I know. And no, I don't want company." She had to find Radar and figure out what in the world was going on. Physically, her life had been in danger, but that seemed easier to face than someone she wasn't quite sure where she stood. But, she had to eventually.

Without a word, she left OR. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. When her attention strayed to the smoldering remains of the jeep, she looked away.

*************************************

Radar felt like a coward. When he first saw her and realized she was fine, his first instinct was to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. And he had never felt like that before. Ever. Honestly, he didn't even know if he knew how to kiss a girl senseless, but that's what he wanted to do. Probably something close to what they were doing the other night before the choppers showed up, he guessed.

But, the thought of even approaching her, especially in front of Hawkeye and BJ, was too daunting. And who was he kidding? He couldn't even get her to talk to him after one little bitty kiss, so what made him think she would even let him try again? He was never one to dwell on the fact that he was by no means a lady's man, but once – just once! – he would like to know that he could in fact win the girl he wanted.

That's what he had to do. Suck it up and count his losses. Jessie was way out of his league. Just like every other girl in this camp. Maybe, just maybe, he could save enough pride and not come out of this looking like an idiot.

He picked up a stack of papers on his desk and absently rifled through them, finally tossing them down restlessly. A couple even fluttered to the floor, but he didn't stop to pick them up.

A light was on in Colonel Potter's office, so he needed to stay up in case he needed anything. But, it was hard to concentrate at 2 in the morning during a normal day, let alone this day.

************************************

During a quick shower, Jessie debated what to do.

She would tell him she was sorry. She _had_ to! Look how they had already screwed everything up without actually seeing each other! She couldn't – no, she wouldn't! - allow herself the luxury of love in this hellhole she volunteered for like an idiot. She could finish her stint, go home to Texas and be the perfect genteel lady she never was before she lost her mind. She would _not_ think about how kind and caring and funny and just plain cute he was. Nope, she wouldn't do it. They would just be friends, no matter what argument he tried to come up with.

That's what she'd do. But, she had to find him first.

After towel drying her hair and throwing on a drab T-shirt with equally drab pants, she started her search.

"How many wounded did we have?"

Radar knew the answers by heart. "Seven, sir. None serious."

"What about any structural damage?"

"One of the nurses' tents is shot up pretty bad, and the explosion messed up one side of pre-op, but I'll get on the phone to I-Corp in the morning and order some replacement supplies."

"Good work, Radar." The Colonel sat his own notes on his desk in a neat stack and pulled off his reading glasses, studying his clerk for a moment.

Radar knew what was coming and cringed.

"Heard one of the wounded was Lieutenant Callahan. How's she doin'?"

Radar shrugged, hoping he looked nonchalant. "Just a shoulder wound, I guess."

"You guess? You don't know?"

Radar stuck out his chin defiantly. "No, I don't know." And that hurt the most to admit. She had come to mean more to him than anyone, but it had all fallen to pieces around him without him knowing what to do about it.

Col. Potter looked like he wanted to argue for a moment. Instead, he blew out a breath. _Youngsters_. "Get some sleep, Radar. Not long until morning."

"Yes, sir." Radar clumped to the door, wishing he could sleep the rest of the war away. Preferably at home. Away from blood and death and snipers and green eyes haunting him in his sleep.

*****************************************

Jessie barged in his office, trying one last time. If she didn't find him here, it would have to wait until morning. Or whenever he decided to finally speak to her again.

At the sight of the cluttered room, she made a face. Boy, he certainly took avoiding her to the extreme, and she wondered where in the world he was this late.

She briefly thought of asking Col. Potter where he was, but decided against it. It would be like talking to her father. There would be questions, and she honestly didn't know if she could answer them.

When Radar barged through Col. Potter's door, she jumped.

When he saw her, he immediately halted, staring.

Strangely enough, he looked like he had something to say as well, but couldn't quite get it out.

_Tell him. Tell him, damn it! _Her just as exhausted brain demanded she do what she told herself she would. But, she kept seeing his panic as he stood in the doorway of OR earlier clutching her blood-covered jacket. And, the way he managed to find her and let her sob her fears away the night the little girl died. Don't forget how he was just plain there for her from the very beginning.

Needless to say, her heart just wasn't listening.

A couple of steps, and their lips met. They clung to each other, taking up where they left off after the night in her tent.

Hands fumbling through each others' hair and clothes – just like the two teenagers they really were, despite the terrible situation they found themselves in – they managed to fall through the swinging door right onto the floor of Colonel Potter's office.

The Colonel didn't even seem to be fazed by the sight of his company clerk and one of his nurses lying in tangled heap on the floor of his office. He removed his glasses as they both struggled from the floor, trying his best not to smile.

"Radar, you posted the weekly duty roster yet?"

"Y-yes, s-sir," he stuttered, straightening his fatigues.

"Jess, honey, I assume your wound won't keep you from your work, will it?"

"Uh, no. Sir. I . . . uh . . . I have tomorrow off, anyway." _Just how did so many of my shirt buttons come undone in such a small amount of time?_ Mortified, she longed to edge out of the room.

The Colonel nodded and put his glasses back on, returning to his paperwork. "Radar, I suggest you take tomorrow off. After the way it's been around here lately, you could use a break."

Radar was speechless. The Colonel had never given him a day off for any reason. "Are you sure . . ."

Colonel Potter glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "Are you telling me you can't find anything at all to occupy yourself for one 24 hour period?"

Radar turned and even darker shade of red and couldn't quite meet the Colonel's eye.

"That's what I thought." He waved his hand and returned to his paperwork. "Carry on . . . er . . . dismissed, both of you."

Jessie didn't need to be told twice. She practically shoved Radar out of the office. Once they were safely on the other side of the door, they stared at each other for a moment and burst out laughing.

Colonel Potter smiled to himself from behind his closed door, the sound of their laughter fading as they made their way to her tent.

_Ahhh, to be young again . . ._

_**********************************_

"You did not!"

"Did so!"

"Liar! The Mississippi's too wide for athletes to swim across, let alone normal folks!" Jessie crossed her arms in defiance as she sat cross-legged at the foot of her cot.

Radar met her gaze just as defiantly. "Maybe down where you are. But up where I am, it's not even as wide as this tent. So, I _did_ swim across it! So, there!"

Jessie stuck out her tongue at him as he laughed. "Just for that, I'm not going to share the rest of my brownies." She hugged the tin closer to her chest.

"Well, OK." He started to throw the blanket back where he had settled into her cot. "I'll just go to the mess tent, then Colonel Potter or Major Houlihan or someone will catch me, and I'll have to go back to work . . ."

"Oh, lay back down, silly." Jessie held out the tin, wincing a bit. "I'm not going to let you starve. You know that."

He saw the shadow pass over her face. "How's your shoulder?"

"Hawkeye said it wasn't all that bad. Just twinges every now and then."

"Should you let him look at it again?"

Just the idea of facing Hawkeye, B.J. or anyone who knew that she and Radar had been holed up in her tent since last night made her sigh. "It'll be alright. Plus," she swatted his leg through the blankets, "you didn't seem so worried about my shoulder last night. And this morning."

He couldn't help but blush. Even her vague references left him tongue-tied. Actually, she looked lovely sitting cross-legged at the end of her cot, wearing nothing but his shirt . . .

She grinned. "You men are all alike."

He tore his gaze away from where a bit of cleavage was visible from the haphazardly-buttoned shirt. "You weren't exactly not wanting . . . it, either, you know."

Now, it was her turn to squirm. It wasn't like her to be so forward. And despite being inexperienced, his eagerness more than made up for it. "I guess it's just this place. To quote Hawkeye, 'you gotta find comfort where you can get it.'"

Radar put his hands behind his head. "That's alright. I didn't mind."

"I bet you didn't!"

"So, when did Hawkeye tell you that?"

She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "The night you were supposed to meet me here . . . wait, was that just last night? Jeez, it seems like such a long time ago!"

"I guess we skipped the talking part, didn't we?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

She reached out her hand, and he intertwined his fingers with hers. She didn't have to say anything at all concerning what they needed to discuss. He just knew.

*************************************

No tar and feathering, please! I through myself upon the mercy of your reviews!


	9. Chapter 9

Aside from "MASH," I do not own the rights to "What's Your Mama's Name?" by Tanya Tucker, either. Oh, and I know it was actually written something like 20 years after the Korean War, but meh - that's why they call this fiction! I don't own any rights to "Don't Call Him a Cowboy" either, which was originally sung by Conway Twitty. Ditto for the timing.

Oh yeah, and guess who finds out that Jessie's actually "little miss moneybags?'

*******************************************

The night of the talent show came sooner than Jessie would have liked. It was the 4077th turn to host the event, and the mess tent had been rearranged with a make shift stage and curtain and rows of chairs. When it came close to starting time, she peeked through a hole in the tent and found that the tent was packed with mostly rowdy men on their way to being rowdy drunk men. She swallowed nervously. _I think I'm going to be sick._ She had sung to drunken crowds before, but never by herself, always with Mark. And it was never in competition.

Klinger rushed backstage, where everyone was talking in anticipation, interrupting her thoughts. His ballerina outfit gathered more than a few catcalls from the 8063rd's representatives on the other side of the stage gathered around their singing sensation Katie Black.

"Hey, I got that dress you wanted, sir!" he said, running to Hawkeye with a something in a garment bag. "Just finished it."

"Great!" Hawkeye said, clapping his hands together. "Let's see it."

With a flourish, Klinger unzipped the bag and revealed its contents.

Jessie's eyes widened as everyone gathered around oohing and aahing over the outfit. "Wait a minute, just wait a minute!" she said. "No one told me about any 'outfit'!"

Hawkeye held the dress in front of Jessie. "At least if you bomb in the singing department you'll be a bombshell on stage."

She snatched it out of his hands. "I can't wear this!" she exclaimed. "I'll be out of uniform." She glanced at Margaret hopefully. Margaret pretended to ignore that remark – she wanted that trophy to show up that haughty Nurse Black – and her hopes fell.

Jessie grasped at straws. "Well, it probably won't fit."

"Ah contrare, my dear," Klinger said triumphantly. "I _had_ your measurements from the majorette outfits we made, remember?"

She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Fine! I'll wear the stupid dress!" She turned to stalk to her tent to change, but changed her mind, shaking the dress at them all. "But, if you don't keep those drunken oafs away from me, I'll make all of your lives a living hell!"

She returned a few minutes later, covered head-to-toe in a blanket from her bed, glaring daggers at Hawkeye and B.J.

"Why the wrap?" Col. Potter, drink in hand, questioned.

"Because," Jessie retorted. "I stepped foot out of my tent and every guy within a mile radius wolf whistled. I think I even heard some North Korean snipers applauding! I wouldn't have made it across camp looking like this." She threw off the blanket just as Radar stuck his head behind the curtain.

"Just about ready . . ." He trailed off, speechless. "Wow!" he whispered.

"I copied it out of a magazine. Worked my fingers to the bone," Klinger said proudly.

Charles stood silently appraising her while his bunkmates twittered.

Jessie had to admit, the red dress was impressive. It had small straps, and fit low over her chest, but not too low. It clung in all the right places, but the crowning glory was the two slits up either side, almost to her hips. When she took a few steps, the dress swished and hints of leg peeked through. It even made her look a little taller.

She put her hands on her hips. "You will all _pay_," she threatened, shaking her finger at them.

"At least this way, we know you won't sing any hymns," Hawkeye said, eyeing her.

Before she could retort, the emcee for the evening-Father Mulcahy-clapped his hands on the other side of the tent to get everyone's attention.

"Welcome to the MASH Talent Show!" the Father said to the crowd to applause and whistles. "Tonight, we have some wonderful talent for you!" More whistles and hoots.

"From the 8063rd, we have last year's champion, hailing from Portland, Oregon, Katie Black!" Half the tent cheered while the other half booed. "And, from Dallas, Texas, we have the 4077th representative Jessie Callahan!" Boos erupted from the 8063rd side of the tent, while wild applause and stomping erupted from the 4077th side.

"Without further adieu, Katie Black!" The father bowed off the stage as the band began playing. Katie, dressed in a stylish, yet demure white dress stepped regally through the makeshift curtain. Jessie's heart sank as she started singing the first notes of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

"You didn't tell me she was good," she hissed at Radar, who was trying hard not stare at Jessie.

"She's not as good as you. Or as pretty," he said, embarrassed. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Jessie, palms sweaty, squeezed back.

"Will you still like me if I make an ass out of myself?" she whispered, nerves tying her stomach into knots.

Radar knew it went far beyond like, but it still scared him to admit it. "You're too good! And, I don't like you for your singing, but that's part of it, but it's not all . . ." He trailed off.

She linked her arm through his and kissed him on the cheek.

Radar, not accustomed to pretty women kissing him in front of everyone, didn't quite know what to do. Although they thought they were keeping it under wraps, mainly to keep Jessie from getting in trouble with Major Houilihan, everyone knew.

It was a small camp.

Too soon, Nurse Black's song was over. The rowdy crowd, which had begun to sniffle, cheered raucously. Nurse Black stepped regally back through the curtain and nodded her blonde head at Jessie.

Jessie wanted to stick her tongue out at her.

"Your turn," the Father motioned towards Jessie, pulling back the curtain. Taking a deep breath to calm her fluttering nerves, she gave Radar's arm one last squeeze before taking the stage.

"What's she going to sing, anyway?" B.J. whispered to Radar.

Radar just beamed. "You'll see, sir," Jessie had written the song herself. He liked it a lot, but he would have liked anything she had written.

"Hey, y'all!" Jessie mustered up her best Southern accent. The crowd, already catcalling at her show of leg as she sauntered up the stage, stepped it up a notch.

_Everyone loves a Southern girl_.

"I'm going to sing a little something I wrote myself. It's called 'What's Your Mama's Name?'" At the mention of 'Mama,' the crowd quieted. _Typical._

She took a deep breath. 'Twenty some-odd years ago, a young man came to Memphis. Asking 'bout a rose that used to blossom in his world. People never took the time to mind the young man's questions. Until one day they heard him ask a little green-eyed girl. What's your Mama's name, child, what's your Mama's name? Does she ever talk about a place called New Orleans? Has she ever mentioned a man named Buford Wilson? What's your Mama's name, child, what's your Mama's name?'

The crowd listened, enthralled as she weaved the story about a guy who spent his entire life asking little four-year old, green-eyed girls if they knew him.

Even backstage, they were entranced.

"Where's this headed?" Col. Potter whispered to Radar.

"Shhhh. Sir," he added quickly.

'A year and some-odd days ago, an old man died in Memphis. Just another wayward soul the county had to claim. Inside the old man's ragged coat, they found a faded letter. It said 'you have a daughter – and her eyes are Wilson green.'

She brought down the house. Bowing, she stepped behind the curtain. Nurse Black glared at her, but she just nodded her head in the other woman's direction before she was engulfed with her compatriots praise.

"That was the best story I ever heard!" Klinger exclaimed.

"I told you she was talented," Radar said, sticking his chest out proudly.

"Can I take this stupid dress off now?" Jessie said, tugging at it.

"Not yet!" Father Mulcahy said, coming back from the stage. "They want more!"

"More?"

"That's part of talent, you know," Nurse Black said icily. "You can't just go onstage and shake your tail like a Southern call girl for one set and expect to win."

"Hey! You take that back!" Radar exclaimed. "Jessie can sing anything she wants anytime she wants!"

"What he said," B.J. said, enjoying the behind-the-scenes catfight.

Jessie put her hand on Radar's tense shoulder. "That's alright. She knows she's going to lose, that's all."

"We'll just see about that!" Katie marched back onstage, spoke with the band and began a rendition of "These Boots are Made for Walking." Even Jessie was impressed with her transformation from innocence to sexuality.

_Props, I need props_! Katie was good, and if Jessie wanted to win, she needed to match her. She looked around frantically as the song ended, snatching Hawkeye's trusty Stetson off his head. She shook her hair, which had been in a bun, and it cascaded down her shoulders, still damp from her quick shower earlier. She plopped the hat on her head as the other woman finished her song and marched triumphantly back stage.

The crowd, geared up by Katie's performance, cheered twice as loud for Jessie. She spoke with the band and immediately went into her song "Don't Call Him a Cowboy," a song full of sexual innuendo that Mark had actually written about a girl explaining that a guy couldn't be a cowboy unless he could "ride."

The crowd went nuts as Jessie sashayed across the stage.

And so it went for another hour. They went through every song they could think of from show tunes to country to rock. Although the thoroughly drunk crowd was demanding more, Col. Potter finally had to call a stop to the festivities. Father Mulcahy called both contestants onstage, who stood as far as possible from each other.

"First, let's hear it for the band!" Father Mulcahy said, motioning towards the bunch hastily arranged for the occasion. The crowd hollered in approval.

The Father put up his hands for silence. "Now for the voting!" He placed his hand over Katie's head, and the crowd roared. Jessie could swear she saw the flaps of the tent move with the noise.

Although she still had a smile painted on her face, she looked nervously down at Radar, who had come in front of the stage with the rest of the gang to vote. He smiled confidently back up at her. It made her feel better.

"Well, that was quite a vote," Father Mulcahy said. "Now, for the 4077th."

Jessie held her breath. She wanted to win this.

But, she need not have worried. The crowd roared its approval for her as she thought about putting her hands over her ears to drown out the noise. She even noticed quite a few from the 8063rd cheering just as loud for her as they did for their own comrade. Before the Father could officially announce the winner, Katie huffed backstage.

"The new champion, Jessamyn Callahan from Dallas, Texas and the 4077th!" he yelled to the approval of the crowd.

"Now can I get out of this dress?" she mouthed to Hawkeye, who gave her a thumbs-up.

********************************************************

"Truth or dare," Kelleye asked Jessie, who was busy braiding Kelleye's long black hair. Across the room Bigelow and Stacey were painting their own toenails with some bright red nail polish Jessie had got in a package from her sister back home.

"Truth," Jessie mumbled around the bobby pins in her mouth.

"How old were you when you first had sex?" Kelleye asked.

Jessie stopped braiding the nurse's hair and cocked her head in thought. "I think I was 16," she said, thinking hard. "His name was Rob, but everyone called him Robbie. It was in the back of his mother's car, and it was awful." She sighed melodramatically. "Ahh, to be 16 again."

The girls giggled.

"So, what about this Mark guy? Was he any good?" Bigelow asked. Although Jessie only mentioned him that one time on her second day in camp, the nurses loved a romance, even one that ended badly. Boredom has a way of making one nosy.

Jessie rolled her eyes as she finished braiding Kelleye's hair. Kelleye held up the mirror and nodded her approval.

"Now, you do mine," Jessie said, sitting down. "Sex to Mark was more like how can I please him instead of vice versa. It was a one-way street, that's for sure," she winced as Kelleye brushed her tangled hair.

"What about you Bigelow? Hawkeye any good?" Stacey said innocently. She earned a glare from Bigelow.

"I don't think the question here is if Hawkeye is any good," Bigelow said flippantly. "I think the question here is if Radar is any good."

Jessie, who was taking a sip of coffee, choked. Each one of the women looked at her expectantly as she sputtered. She knew she was red, but she hoped they thought it was from her coughing fit and not the question.

"First of all, that's none of your business," she finally managed. "Second of all, I have never seen anyway to get any privacy around here for anything like _that_!" It _was_ possible, but she sure wasn't going to bring _that_ up! "Third, I didn't hear you answer the question about Hawkeye."

"That's because we haven't actually slept together, although he is a damn good kisser." Stacey sighed in agreement.

Bigelow wasn't to be deterred. "Well, is Radar a good kisser? And you can't say that is none of our business because we want to know."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "I think he's quite a good kisser," she said, crossing her arms in front of her "Fine, are you happy now?"

The women laughed at her obvious discomfort.

"What do you see in him, really?" Stacey asked. "I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but he's so, well, runty almost."

"Have you looked at my height lately, Stace?" Jessie asked, trying to be as still as possible for Kelleye to finish her hair. "There's nothing wrong with being short."

"You're avoiding the question," Kelleye said in a sing-song voice.

"For starters, I can talk to him. I know that sounds lame and all, but really, how many men have you known that you can talk to?"

The room was quiet, so she took that to mean 'not many.'

"He really cares about what I have to say, too, and he cares about me, not the way that Mark cared about me, which was how good I looked on his arm or in his bed, but actually about _me_. Plus, I've always been a sucker for dimples!" The group laughed.

"And, he's a good kisser!" Bigelow pointed out. Jessie threw a pillow at her as she ducked.

"Lt. Callahan, please report to the mess tent on the double. You have a visitor!" the PA system announced.

"Oohh, a visitor," Stacey said, blowing on her nails. "Any idea who?"

Jessie shook her head as Kelleye finished braiding her hair.

"Maybe we should all go to see," Bigelow said.

Jessie threw another pillow at her. "I think all of you have been in my business quite enough for today." She grinned at her friends. They all grinned back.

As Jessie walked across the compound, she wondered who the visitor could be. Entering the mess tent and giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness, she saw a familiar figure deep in discussion with Hawkeye, B.J., Charles, Radar and Col. Potter.

"Johnny!" she yelled and practically leapt across the tent.

Her brother stood just in time to catch her, and they both tumbled to the floor between the tables. Everyone laughed aloud, but Jessie didn't care. She hugged him so hard she thought that her arms would break. "Ohmigod, what are you doing here?"

Johnny helped her stand. "Easy, Jess, you'll rumple my uniform."

"Uniform?" Jessie jumped back to get a look for herself.

Johnny posed. "After you joined and all of Daddy's money in the world couldn't buy off the United States Army, the high society crowd became quite patriotic and joined right behind you. If you volunteer, at least you get to choose where you go. Actually, I think they were just as glad to get away from the balls and dances and teas as you were. Although I don't know how you stand the food after the high-quality stuff that our cook made." Johnny turned towards the stunned group. "And this tent," he said, gesturing around. "We wouldn't even put our help in something this horrible."

Jessie paled. Her secret was finally out. As crazy as it sounded, she had almost forgotten it herself.

"I _knew_ it!" Charles said triumphantly, slapping the table. "I _did_ see you in Boston that summer! You were the one who punched the mayor's son after he tried to put his hand down your dress! My sister and I talked about it for days."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," B.J. said, putting his hands up in front of him. "Are you telling me you are . . ."

"Filthy stinking rich?" Col. Potter finished.

Johnny held Jessie at arms length. "You mean you've been here all this time and didn't tell them?"

She could have kicked him just like she kicked the mayor's son.

"You've been holding out on us in poker, you little scamp!" Hawkeye said, shaking his finger at her.

The news didn't seem to faze anyone, except the one person whose opinion she wanted the most.

His eyes had not left her during the entire conversation. She had often wondered what Radar's reaction would be if he found out, especially after all this time and as close as they had gotten. She had watched his face go from shock to sadness to anger during those few short moments. Without warning he stood and turned to leave.

Jessie wriggled out of her brother's grasp to follow. She grabbed his arm, but he jerked out of her grasp.

"Excuse me, _Lieutenant_, but I have work to do," he said finally looking her in the eyes. She could see the hurt, and it was like Sophie had kicked her in the chest. He stalked out of the tent. She didn't follow.

"Uh, oh," B.J. said. "She didn't tell him, either, I guess."

"Hey, sis, I'm sorry about that," Johnny said, coming up behind her as she watched Radar angrily march across the compound. "I should have guessed you wouldn't go around telling."

Jessie turned to look into his green eyes so similar to her own and smiled weakly. "That's OK, you didn't know." She punched him in the arm, trying her best to be jovial. "Now tell me, what in the world are you doing in the ROK?"


	10. Chapter 10

Jessie and her brother spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. She found out that Johnny had joined the Navy, much to the chagrin of her father, and had quickly become an officer. He was stationed currently in the Sea of Japan, and he had 48 hours leave that he used to come see her, having to be back by 0400 hours.

Jessie showed him around camp, and introduced him to her friends. The nurses were especially pleased to meet him, and he charmed them all, even Margaret.

He caught her up on the happenings at home, who was sleeping with who, who had married who. Nothing had changed.

But, she had changed more than she realized.

She laughed at all the right places, but her heart really wasn't in it. She kept seeing the hurt look on Radar's face, and she wanted more than anything to explain.

Night came all too soon, and Johnny had to return to his ship. Jessie fought tears as he hugged her one last time.

"At least you're in the Navy," Jessie said, holding him tightly. "I've seen what happens to the boys here, and I couldn't stand it if you got, well if you were . . ."

Johnny patted her on the cheek. "Hey, you're the brave one in the family," he said, patting her cheek. He looked at her sternly. "I can't believe you didn't tell these people. Did you just _lie_ to them for three months?"

She shrugged, remembering Radar's reaction. "Not exactly, I just didn't tell the whole truth," she said miserably.

"You know they'd have found out eventually," he said and kissed her forehead. "Be good, sis, and no more lying to these people, OK?" He stepped into the waiting jeep and was whisked away.

Jessie watched the jeep go until it disappeared in the distance. She turned, knowing what she had to do next.

The first place she looked was his office. She found Radar sitting at his desk, staring aimlessly at a sheet of paper, looking as miserable as she felt.

She stepped hesitantly inside. He didn't say a word, but she saw him clutch the paper tighter. He knew she was there. She cleared her throat nervously.

"I know you're angry at me . . ."

"You lied to me," he interrupted, and she fell silent. She couldn't see his expression, but she could hear the hurt in his voice as he continued. "You said your father was in 'real estate.'"

Before she could answer, he angrily pushed himself away from the desk. "So what else have you lied about? You said you live in the country, but I guess it's in some sort of mansion. Your brother said something about help? And what about . . ."  
"Stop it, just stop it!" Jessie yelled, not wanting to be reminded of her sins.

"I'm not one of your servants you can boss around!"

"I'm not bossing!"

"We're not supposed to lie to each other, we're supposed to tell the truth," he said, suddenly looking deflated.

"I'm still the same as I was before."

"How do I know you didn't lie about other things? Or you won't make up stuff in the future about important things?"

Jessie threw her hands up. "Great. Just great. I knew this was a bad idea."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What was a bad idea?"

"Us. Me and you."

"Why? Am I not good enough for you or something?"

"Don't put words in my mouth!" She knew the entire camp could probably hear, but didn't care. "So what? I'm worth millions! What else do you want to know? My mother left me a trust fund when she died. I got a new convertible when I turned 16. I've mingled with actors and actresses. I own seven racing horses that are probably worth more than your entire family farm!"

Jessie regretted the last words as soon as she said them. "Wait, I didn't mean that . . ."

She reached for his arm, but he jerked out of her grasp. She dropped her hand in defeat.

Her mind raced, willing him to look at her. "My whole life I've been treated as if I belong behind some sort of glass, fragile and not to be touched. I've had friends only for my status, and I didn't want that here."

She knew it all sounded lame to him because it suddenly did to her.

"Just leave," he said sullenly, not looking her in the eyes.

Without a backwards glance, she turned and walked into the night.

_Callahan, you've screwed up big time now . . ._

And this time, she couldn't make it right.

For the first time in many nights, she cried herself to sleep.

*************************************

"Hey, Radar, mail came yet?" Hawkeye and B.J. sauntered into Radar's office.

Instead of his usually busy self, Radar was staring sullenly into space. He jumped when they entered.

"Um, no, sirs." He half-heartedly shuffled papers around on his desk.

"Darn. I was expecting my latest issue of _Nude Sports Illustrated_. It's the tetherball issue." He elbowed Radar, who had stood up to shuffle through some more papers in the corner file cabinet. "I might just let you borrow it."

"No thanks," Radar said tonelessly. "Now, are you two sirs finished? I need to get some work done."

B.J. gestured around the cluttered office. "Looks more like you've been working on sulking than working for the Army."

"Yeah, you're right, B.J. Think it may have something to do with one red-haired sweetheart who's just recently been elevated to millionaire status?"

"Don't know. Could be."

Radar slammed the file drawer shut. "She lied to all of us, so I don't really understand why all of you are not just as mad at her as I am." He threw himself in his desk chair, which squeaked annoyingly. "Anyway, I don't really even care." He almost choked on the last words.

B.J. and Hawkeye looked at each other. "I guess some of us are a little more forgiving than others," B.J. said.

"If she wants forgiveness, she should go see Father Mulcahy."

Hawkeye raised his eyebrow at Radar's tone. "What I want to know is how come you couldn't _tell_ that she was keeping something from us. You know, that thing you do."

Radar had wondered that himself. He shrugged. "It doesn't work like that."

B.J. clapped him on the shoulder. "Just let us know when the mail gets here."

"Yeah. Sure."

After the captains let themselves out, Radar sat down the papers he had been pretending interested him and rubbed his eyes wearily. The past few days had been hell. Avoiding Jessie had been the easy part. She stayed busy with her duties, and he pretended to be busy with his. Their paths didn't cross, except for occasionally in the mess tent. However, avoiding everyone else's comments and suggestions was not so easy. It seemed that everyone had an opinion, and they felt they must share it with him.

Radar didn't care what everyone else thought. All he knew was that he was miserable. At first, it was easy to be angry. Ever since she flounced out of his office the night her brother left, she hadn't once tried to approach him. Not that he had been approachable. If she got near him, he always managed to find an excuse to leave.

As his anger faded, loneliness returned. At times, he missed her so much, he thought he would be sick. He just couldn't understand how he had managed just fine without her before, but he couldn't seem to probably function without her now.

Not that she ever looked like she missed him. If she was suffering as much as he was, she hid it well. He would see her occasionally across the camp, laughing along with the nurses like nothing was wrong. Just the sight of her made him lonely. And that made him even angrier. Especially because she didn't even seem to _care_ that she had practically broken his heart. Then, he would get angry at himself for the feelings he kept having that wouldn't go away, no matter what he did.

It was a vicious cycle.

Frustrated, Radar swiped at a stack of papers on his desk and watched as they fluttered to the floor.

*****************************************************

"Why does Army food always have to be rotten?" Klinger said, holding his spoon above his plate and watching the food plop disgustingly back into the tray.

"Just don't look at it. Makes it easier to not taste it," Zale said, chewing determinedly.

"Mind if we sit here?" B.J. said. He and Hawkeye sat before waiting for an answer.

"Sure, if you don't mind constant complaining," Zale said, motioning towards Klinger.

"Or constant ugliness," Klinger replied.

"Why, I aughta . . ." Zale shook his fist at Klinger.

Radar just rolled his eyes at their predictable antics.

"Room for one more?" Father Mulcahy asked, tray in hand. Zale gave Klinger a dirty look, but backed down in respect for the priest.

Radar, dismally poking at his food and trying hard not to notice Jessie across the tent with the nurses, moved over to make room.

"Good morning, son," Father Mulcahy said cheerfully.

"G'morning," Radar mumbled.

"Don't be so cheerful, Radar," Hawkeye said, making a face at his plate.

"Didn't I tell you women was trouble?" Zale said, elbowing Radar in the side. "You give 'em everything they want, and then 'bam'!" he hit his palm on the table for emphasis, "they take what they can and leave you wallowing like a pig in the mud."

"Great analogy," B.J. said, grimacing as he chewed. "Could be mistaken for our breakfast." He rose from the table. "I think I'll pass."

Before Radar could reply, the nurses tittered as a figure walked into the tent. He slyly pulled down his aviator sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and the giggling from the nurses intensified. He edged through the crowded tent and sat in the space vacated by B.J.

"How's the flyboy business going, Jake?" Hawkeye asked.

"Fair, fair," Jake said, keeping a brown eye on the nurses' table. He ran his hands through his blonde hair. "I guess I should be asking you how the nurse business is goin'? Oh, sorry, Father."

Father Mulcahy smiled patiently. "Not a problem."

"Funny you mention the nurses." Hawkeye pointed his fork at Jake. "We were just discussing the fine aspects of women. It seems that Radar here is having some woman trouble himself."

Radar glared at Hawkeye. "I am not!"

"That's too bad," Jake said, distracted. He leaned closer into the group. "Tell me, what's the story with the redhead."

"You mean Jessie? She's been here well over a month. Surprised you haven't seen her already," Klinger said.

Radar watched Jake suspiciously.

Jake turned around and leaned his back on the table, getting a full view of the nurses. "Jessie, huh? She involved with anyone?"

Everyone at the table glanced at Radar. He was torn between rising from the table and stalking out the door and wanting to see what would happen next.

"Not . . . exactly," Hawkeye finally replied.

Zale pointed at Radar's plate. "You goin' eat that?"

Radar, breakfast and company forgotten, shook his head. He was too busy watching Jessie. All the nurses at the table were huddled together, glancing at Jake and giggling among themselves. Even Jessie. Once, she even glanced in Radar's direction, and his heart skipped a beat. But when she caught him looking, she quickly looked away. The other women laughed when she made a comment. His heart fell.

"Wish me luck, fellas!" Jake said, rising from the table.

"Luck for what?" Radar mumbled, missing the last part of the conversation. He didn't have to wait long. To his horror, Jake ambled over to the nurses' table.

"Hi, Jake," Bigelow said suggestively. Some of the other women batted their eyelashes at him or giggled. But not Jessie. She sipped her coffee demurely.

"Girls," Jake said in a group greeting and sat down with a flourish next to Jessie. She glanced over at him as he picked up one of her hands and kissed it lightly. The nurses sighed melodramatically.

"You see that?" Klinger said across the room. "Boy, what a move!"

Radar didn't comment. He couldn't. Anger and jealously welled up in his chest, blocking any attempts at speech.

Startled, Jessie pulled her hand away. "Where I come from, a gentleman would never assume to touch a lady like that without introducing himself first."

Jake leaned back, stretching his long legs. "Who says I'm a gentleman?"

She raised an eyebrow at his comment. She had to admit, his cocky attitude was inviting. "Well, does the _gentleman_ have a name?"

"Jake. Jake McFarland." Sure of himself, he leaned in closer and played with an errant strand of her hair.

"Why, of all the dirty, rotten . . ." Radar muttered, clenching his fists underneath the table.

"This _gentleman_ wants to take you to Seoul tonight to the aviator shindig." He continued twirling the strand around on his index finger. When Jessie didn't immediately answer, he continued. "I bet you would look gorgeous in emerald green, and I saw just the dress in a window in Tokyo. Just say the word, and I'll have it here in two hours flat."

Jessie really wasn't in the mood for a party, especially with this cocky pilot. "Look, you really seem like a really nice guy, but I don't think. . ."

She glanced across the room where she knew they were being watched. What caught her eye was Radar's glare.

_How dare he be jealous after the way he's treated me?_

She turned and faced Jake, giving him her best smile. "Sure, Jake, why not?"

He smiled back. "I'll pick you up at 8. What about the dress?"

Feeling Radar's eyes on them, Jessie linked a finger through Jake's shirt and pulled him closer. The nurses gasped, and he looked just as surprised.

"A lady never accepts clothes from a man. Especially on the first date," she whispered. "But, I guarantee you won't be disappointed."

He swallowed hard, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Good, I hate to be disappointed."

She let go of his shirt and picked up her coffee cup. "See you at 8, flyboy."

"Oh, I'll be here." He sauntered out the door, whistling, as the nurses huddled around her.

"So, what'll you wear?"

"I bet Klinger has something!"

"What about that dress you wore for the talent show?"

They all jumped as the door flew open, crashing into the wooden supports. Radar stalked out the door and across camp.

"What do you think got into him?"

Jessie didn't reply. The hollow ache in her chest hurt too much.


	11. Chapter 11

"So, what do ya think?" Jessie said, twirling around. The above-the-knee, off-white dress felt silky-smooth on her skin as she spun.

Klinger, pins in his mouth, applauded. "I couldn't have pulled it off better myself!"

"It's been so long since I've had so much fun dressing up!" Jessie said, playing with her hair in the mirror. "Never would have thought it would have been in Korea with a section-8 wanna be!"

"Trust me, lady, I would rather be anywhere but here!"

She swept her hair on top of her head. "So what do you think? Up or down?"

"Up. Definitely up."

"You don't think it's too . . . you know?" she asked, pulling at the hem.

"Nah. Plus, it couldn't be any more suggestive than you were this morning."

She blushed.

Klinger huffed. "Hey, if you got it, flaunt it. It's not like he didn't deserve it."

She knew who Klinger was talking about and swallowed at the lump that threatened in her throat. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She sat at Klinger's vanity and twisted her hair into a mass of heated and curled decoration. Klinger touched it up in places.

"There," he said when he was done. "You'll be the southern belle of the ball."

She jumped up and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. "I owe you one!"

When she walked into the compound, a whistle stopped her in her tracks. Hawkeye sauntered over. "You look good enough to eat."

"I don't plan on being eaten," she said saucily.

"Well, you better watch out for Jake, then. He can be persuasive."

Jessie squared her shoulders. "Don't worry about me."

Hawkeye laughed. "Oh, I think I'm more worried about him!"

"As you should be!"

"Lieutenant!"

Jessie jumped at the Major's tone as the obviously irate head nurse stomped closer. _What have I done now?_ "Yes ma'am?"

"Well, _now_ I'm worried about you, Jess. Once the Major gets hold of you . . ." Hawkeye made cat hissing noises.

"Oh, shut-up, Captain," Margaret said, annoyed. She turned around and shook a piece of paper at Jessie, who was trying her best to stand at attention dressed in heels and a white party dress.

"This is the supply count you finished this morning. Tell me what's wrong with it, Lieutenant."

Jessie took it and studied it closely. "I-I don't see anything wrong with it, Major."

"Look closer!"

Jessie flipped to the last page. The line where Col. Potter's signature was supposed to be was empty. "B.J., I mean Captain Hunnicutt said he'd take this over to Col. Potter to sign . . ."

"Now, it isn't the Captain's job, is it? Make sure this gets to Col. Potter for his signature, or you won't be leaving this camp tonight! Understood?"

_That means facing Radar_. Jessie's heart starting pounding at the thought. "Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Jessie saluted, careful not to muss her hair, and Margaret returned it. She cursed the Major's timing as she walked briskly across the camp towards the Colonel's office.

"You did great," Hawkeye whispered in Margaret's ear.

Margaret rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm helping you and B.J. to get her back with an enlisted man! The idea!" She stalked away in the opposite direction.

Jessie paused at the door into Radar's office and chewed on the inside of her lip. He had been angry with her for days now. She pretended to brush it off, acting like she didn't really care that he was treating her so badly. Inside, it was a different story. She missed him terribly. But, with the way he was acting towards her, there was no way she'd give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Jessie squared her shoulders and pushed through the door. She let out her breath when she saw his empty office.

But, Radar bustled through the door from post-op. He stopped cold when he saw her standing by his desk, paper in hand, looking indecisive.

_God, she's beautiful in that dress!_

The scent of her perfume hit him next, and it made him weak in the knees. He fought the urge to prop himself on the doorway.

"How can I help you, _Lieutenant_?" he managed to ask, trying his best to glare. He brushed past her towards his desk.

"I need Colonel Potter to sign something immediately, _Corporal,_" she replied, matching his bitter tone.

He held out his hand, and she slapped the paper into it. He scanned it, looking at the last page.

Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and stomped into the Colonel's office. Within seconds, he returned and thrust the paper at her, avoiding her gaze.

"In such a hurry for your date that you forgot to finish your job?" He couldn't help himself.

She raised an eyebrow. "I think my dating life is none of your business, O'Reilly." _Although it used to be._

"Well, it becomes my business and everyone else's when the two of you parade around at breakfast in front of the whole camp!"

She crossed her arms in front of her. "Jealous?"

He snorted. "Far from it! I just feel sorry for the guy. He doesn't know what sort of lies he's in for, does he?"

That stung. "If you'd stop feeling sorry for yourself for one minute, you'd realize I didn't lie to you to hurt you!"

"Well, for not _trying_ to hurt me, you sure did a damn good job of it!"

"What's all this dang blasted noise out here? Don't you know this is a hospital?" Col. Potter bellowed, marching out the door.

He caught Jessie's expression. "Everything alright, Lieutenant?"

"Fine, sir. Everything's just dandy," she mumbled.

Radar barged into Col. Potter's office, letting the door whack the wall.

Jessie flinched. "Thanks for signing this."

"No problem, Lieutenant. Hope you have a good evening."

"Thank you, sir." She saluted and walked out the door, willing herself not to cry.

B.J. and Hawkeye watched Jessie storm out of the office.

"Guess it didn't work, did it?" B.J. asked.

"Yeah. I reckon we need to get out of the cupid business."

********************************

Col. Potter returned to his office and found Radar rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Finish the monthly report?"

"Yes, sir. It's on your desk."

"What about the duty roster?"

"It's already posted." Radar edged towards the door.

"Looks good, doesn't she?"

Radar stopped. "Sir?"

"In that dress. Lieutenant Callahan looks good in that dress."

_Boy, did she ever_. Radar just shrugged.

Col. Potter studied him closely. "Don't you think you're being hard on her?"

Radar squared his jaw. "No, sir, I don't." S_he deserves it. Doesn't she?_

Col. Potter shook his head.

"Anything else, sir?"

"Nope. Get some sleep, Corporal. You look like you could use it."

"Yes sir." _That's not likely, as long as Jessie's out there with that creep._

Radar collapsed on his cot, disgusted with himself. He could have been polite. His mother raised him better than that. He tried to sleep, but kept seeing the hurt look in her eyes. And the idea of that big shot pilot with his hands on her made him nauseous. He lay awake and listened for the sound of her jeep returning from Seoul.

He had a long wait.

************************************

This time when the nightmare started, it was Jake who held the knife to her throat, his normally congenially features contorted in anger. But, the white skirt of the Korean woman still reached around her, pulling her away from him.

The sound of a jeep pulling into the compound woke him before the gun in his nightmare went off, the early morning sun making patterns on the dusty floor.

He knew it was her without even looking out the window.

************************************

"Come in," Jessie said, throwing down her pen in disgust. She was trying to write a cheerful letter home, but it wasn't working. "Oh, hi, Father," she said, not expecting to see the kindly preacher.

"Hello, my child. Mind if I sit down?"

"Sure." She swept the books off a chair in the corner. "What can I help you with?" she asked politely.

He decided to get right to the point. "Don't you think you should try to talk to Radar before he leaves?"

Jessie snorted. Col. Potter had offered her a week in Seoul, but she turned him down. She wasn't surprised to hear that Radar had taken him up on it and was leaving that evening. "Sorry, Father. He won't talk to me. And when he does, it's not pretty." She tried to hide the hurt in her voice and stuck out her chin defiantly.

"I can't say I know much about feelings between a man and woman, but I have watched the two of you. I really don't think it's something to throw away so easily."

"Well, you'll have to talk to O'Reilly because he sure avoids me like the plague." She wiped angrily at a tear that slipped down her cheek. No matter how hard she worked to keep her feelings bottled up inside, when someone made her face them, it hurt.

"Well, I'm sure that little show you and Jake put on didn't help matters any."

She cringed. The date would have been fun if she wasn't so miserable the entire time. Jake seemed like a nice guy and had even tried to get her to go out with him again. But, her heart just wasn't in it.

Father Mulcahy continued slowly. "I have talked to him, and he's hurting just as much as you are." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I think he feels betrayed."

"Betrayed?" Jessie barked in disbelief.

"Sins of omission are just as hurtful as sins of commissions," he said, making her feel even worse. "When he gets back, just promise me you'll talk to him."

She nodded mutely.

That night, she had a hard time getting to sleep. She kept thinking about what the Father had said. A couple of times during the night, she thought about trying to call him in Tokyo, but always chickened out. She couldn't stand to be hung up on. Plus, whatever had to be said could wait. It wasn't like he was in a hurry to talk to her, anyway.

Around midnight, she was wakened by the sound of buses in the compound. Struggled sleepily into fatigues, she walked aimlessly into the night.

Hawkeye and Jessie were assigned to pre-op. She followed the doctor around and made notes as he chose who desperately needed to go first and who could wait.

"This one can wait, just a superficial wound," he said, looking underneath the bandage and patting the guy on the shoulder. "This one goes first." He inspected the guy next to him who had a head wound.

Jessie studiously made notes and never looked at the soldiers. It made it easier if you didn't make eye contact.

She heard Hawkeye gasp as he inspected another soldier. Jessie thought it was in response to wounds and waited expectantly, catching up on her notes.

"Well?" she said, finally looking up at him as he frantically checked the soldier. The look of fear on his face surprised her, and she finally glanced down.

_Radar?_

Jessie sucked in a breath. She tried desperately to be objective. It was a chest wound, which had already bled onto the stretcher.

_No telling how much blood he's lost._ _Lying wounded on the side of the road. Alone. Did he even know what happened to him? _

_Would he ever wake up to find out?_

The room started to spin, but she held her ground, clutching the chart to her chest to ground herself in reality before her mind spun out of control.

"He'll go first," Hawkeye said gruffly, and Jessie automatically entered the information on her chart.

"Corpsmen," she called hoarsely, surprised her voice was even working. "Prep . . . this one."

"You OK?" Hawkeye asked, his eyes searching hers.

She tried to hide her shaking hands and nodded. Wounded men won't mend themselves.

They moved on.

***************************************

For the record, this is not any reference to the episode "Fallen Idols." Just wanted you to know.


	12. Chapter 12

Jessie couldn't stand it. She wanted to be in OR. But, the one thing that held her back was she knew they were watching. All of them. And she'd be damned if they would have something to go back and tell him if he got better.

_When he gets better. Not if – when._

So, she volunteered to stay in pre-op, trying desperately to focus on prepping the wounded for surgery. If she stayed with him throughout his surgery, and he still treated her like he had been over the last couple of days if he got better, she knew she couldn't stand it.

_Damn it, Callahan, when he gets better!_

It was the most agonizing hour of her life. She had to call on every ounce of strength she had to act as indifferent as possible. It was weak to show emotion, and if her father drilled nothing else into her mind, it was that a Callahan was never, ever weak. As much as her father's constant harping about her rightful place in society was aggravating, she found it so much easier to fall back on what he had drilled into her head all those years.

_Maybe my father was right after all_._ And Charles._

That gave her something else to thing about, anything to forget about the broken and bleeding body she had seen lying on the stretcher just hours before. Anything at all to keep her sane during the agonizing wait called surgery.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Father Mulcahy touched her arm as she was sterilizing instruments.

"Didn't mean to scare you, my child."

Jessie took a deep breath. "No, it's just . . . well I was . . . thinking." She wondered if he had news of how the surgery turned out, but didn't dare ask him.

_Sign of weakness, remember?_

It was almost as if he read her mind. "He's OK, Jessamyn. Hawkeye says as long as infection doesn't set in, he'll be back running this place in no time flat."

"Thank you, Father," she said in a clipped voice. It was all she could manage, grasping at what was left of her nerves to not break down in front of the priest. "Hawkeye's a very competent surgeon, and I'm sure the Corporal will be back on his feet in no time." She continued sorting instruments as if nothing were wrong.

Father Mulcahy sighed and walked away, shaking his head, a part of him relieved that he was not required to figure out the opposite sex.

When she was sure he was gone, she gripped the side of the cabinet to steady herself.

_He made it! _

But, she knew he wasn't out of the woods yet.

She owed Kelleye some time, so she volunteered to take her friend's place in post-op, ignoring the knowing glance her friend gave her.

Pausing at the door to post-op, she took a deep breath. _Remember, he's just another patient_. She walked into the room and took the chart off the first bed, checking each patient's vital signs and studiously making notes. Just another day in the ROK.

He was in the third bed. Jessie skipped it because Margaret and Hawkeye were hovering. She went on to the next bed and jumped when a hand touched her arm.

"Don't you want to see him?" Hawkeye asked.

Her eye fell on Radar lying in the bed behind him. Her heart sank at the sight of him wrapped in bandages. She shook her head.

Hawkeye restrained himself from shaking the stubborn nurse. "Suit yourself."

Jessie glared at his back and continued her rounds.

The night drug into day, and still Radar did not wake. She traded another shift, telling herself she was just catching up on owed time. She didn't want to admit the truth, which was she wasn't going to leave that room until she was sure he was going to be fine.

A few times, only when she felt no one was looking, she would steal over to his bed and watch his bandaged chest rise and fall. It was hard to not let the tears come. But, she had to be strong, at least for her own sanity's sake.

What had she told him before? He was too kind and gentle to die in a crummy place like this? But, kind and gentle were two traits that had little chance of survival in this modern-day hell, never more obvious then now that he had almost become another dismal statistic in a war chockfull of them.

What would she have done if he had gotten killed? Either died on the lonely dirt road a few miles from camp or on the operating table or even now? He would die angry at her, her own selfish refusal to fess up to her true self pushing him away.

Just the thought of it made her hurt. Physically. She returned to work before it got the best of her.

Evening came and still he slept. Finding herself alone in post-op, Jessie walked wearily to the side of his bed and flopped down on the floor. Someone had brought his bear and sat it on his pillow. It had fallen over, and she straightened it, patting it on the head. She checked his bandages, making sure they weren't too tight. Hawkeye said he wasn't in any pain. She didn't like to think of him being in pain.

Automatically, she took his hand into hers. It was warm, a good sign.

She was so tired. The last stint in OR had only been a couple of hours or so, but she had done back-to-back shifts in post-op. She had another one coming up, one that she was actually scheduled for, so she couldn't sleep. She was determined to see him awake before she crashed. She laid her head in her arms beside him to rest her eyes for a minute.

Hawkeye sauntered into post-op, trying to be chipper. He knew Jessie was still in there, and he also knew she wasn't really catching up on owed shifts. But, he was surprised to see her asleep next to Radar.

Charles was leaning on the metal bars that served as a footboard on the end of the cot, studying her. "Proud, isn't she?"

Hawkeye gave his bunkmate an of-course-you-would-know-about-proud look.

But, Charles didn't see it. "This whole shift, she won't even go near him. However, I leave for just a moment, and when I return, she's asleep right next to him."

"Pride cometh before a fall. But, I think she's already had her fall and feels badly for it." He elbowed Charles in the ribs. "Hey, wouldn't you like to have a pretty girl cry over you if you were hurt?"

Charles harrumphed. "Wouldn't be worth the injury, that's for sure." He watched her intently. "Think we should insist she get some sleep?"

"If I know Jessie - which I do - you wouldn't be able to drag her out of here by her toes until Radar here wakes up." He walked over to Jessie and nudged her with his knee gently. "But, I will send her out to get some of the horrid stuff they call coffee."

Jessie stirred and opened her eyes. She realized where she was and jumped back. "I-I must have dozed off." She thought about offering some excuse for her show of affection, but her mind wasn't working fast enough.

Hawkeye offered his hand and helped her stand. "Sixteen hours of post-op has that affect on some people. And watching someone you care about go through this," he said, motioning at Radar's prone figure.

She fished a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose, ignoring his second comment and giving her flaming cheeks time to cool down. "Yeah, well, I shouldn't have dozed off on you and Charles," she said, trying to brush past them.

He grabbed her sleeve. "Since you plan on being here for the duration, at least go over to the mess tent and get some coffee. This is obviously taking a little longer than we expected, so there's no telling how long you'll have to stay."

Jessie shook her arm loose. "I'm fine, really."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Charles, take her. Bet you haven't eaten anything, either, have you?" Before she could reply, he waved her off.

Charles ushered her out of post-op, and she squinted at the afternoon sunshine. Marching sullenly ahead of him, she let the mess tent door slam behind her and walked straight to the coffee pot. The tent was empty this time of day, and she plopped down at the nearest bench with her mug. Charles sat across from her, watching her.

She eyed him suspiciously. Much to her relief, he rose from the table.

_Good. Maybe he'll leave me alone._

Instead, he had gone for a sandwich. When he turned around, she had both hands on her coffee cup, looking across the tent so forlornly that his heart went out to her. He sighed and walked towards the table.

"So, do you often play governess?" she said, masking her pain with caustic remarks. He would know. It was a ploy he used often himself. Placing the sandwich in front of her, he returned to his seat. She unceremoniously pushed it away.

Charles leaned in closer. "I don't normally play nursemaid to adults, but when they insist upon acting like children, I find myself in that role on occasion."

Jessie eyed him, then plopped her coffee cup down with a thunk and picked up the sandwich, taking a large bite out of it.

"There, happy?" she said with her mouth full. She wouldn't admit that she was actually starved.

He watched her eat, waiting until she was finished before speaking.

"Why in the world do you insist on being so stubborn?"

She motioned to her empty plate. "I ate the stupid sandwich, didn't I?"

"I wasn't talking about the sandwich, I was talking about Corporal O'Reilly."

Jessie's irritation disappeared in a moment. She blinked back tears she had tried so desperately not to shed. "What do you care? You never really liked him anyway." She flinched at her use of the past tense.

"My opinion of O'Reilly is not being discussed. If I'm not mistaken, you do."

"Well, it doesn't matter if I do or not because he _does not_!" she said, turning the mug around and around on the table.

Charles took her hand, making her stop, and she looked at him.

"Why don't you take some of that pride and stubbornness and use it to win him back, if that's what you want to do? I think you'll find that perhaps he isn't as spiteful towards you as you might think." In fact, Radar had been so mopey over the past week that Charles felt like locking the two in the storage room until they worked things out. "And if he is still mad at you after he finds out the way you have practically lived in post-op these past several hours, he doesn't deserve you."

His assessment of the situation touched her. She met his eyes for the first time. "Thanks, Charles."

He smiled at her, one of the few genuine smiles she ever saw him give, before he stood up and left her alone.

She massaged her temples, her brain a mess of jumbled thoughts. Sighing, she stood, placing her mug in the tray to be washed.

"Jessie, hey Jess!" Klinger called, rushing into the mess tent, skirts swishing.

Jessie's breath caught in her throat.

"He's awake!" Klinger said. "Isn't that great?"

For some reason, she was speechless. She had convinced herself this was not going to turn at well. But, somehow, it did. All she could do was stare stupidly at Klinger.

He finally turned her around and pushed her out the door. "Well, go see him already!"

Jessie stumbled out the door and tried to nonchalantly saunter across camp. But, she couldn't help it and broke into a trot.

She threw open the door to post-op and saw a crowd by his bed. She willed her heart to stop pounding as she quietly entered into the room. Standing behind Charles, she peeked over his shoulder.

He was sitting up, propped up by pillows, smiling wearily at Margaret as she poked and prodded at him. Everyone laughed at a joke B.J. had made, but she didn't hear it. Relief swam through every bone in her body, and if she didn't get out of there fast, everyone was going to see her break down.

As silently as she could, she turned for the door. Holding onto the side of the building, she stumbling around to a shadowy side before anyone caught her. Leaning against some crates covered with smelly green tarps and burying her face in her arms, she finally wept.

****************************************

Charles was the only one that saw her leave.

_Maybe Hawkeye was right. Maybe it is comforting to have someone cry for me._

Stoically, he gathered her in his arms. Surprisingly, she didn't fight him, and he stroked her hair until the sobs subsided.

"I thought he was going to die," she finally hiccupped, her voice muffled.

"Hawkeye wouldn't be happy to hear you didn't think he was as omnipresent as he thinks he is," he said, still stroking her hair. _God, she has beautiful hair . . ._

"Feel better now?" he asked, pulling her back, a little uncomfortable with where his thoughts were heading. "Now, I expect you to go in there and face your corporal, tell him what you feel and damn the consequences." He smiled wickedly. "It's not like he can leave the room now, so you got him where you want him."

Jessie rolled her bloodshot eyes.

He patted her on the shoulder and walked away, leaving her alone in the shadows to face her options.

********************************************

She could go in there and see him. However, unless amnesia had set in, there was no guarantee she would receive a warm welcome, especially if the last several days had been any indication.

And she just flat out couldn't take his anger after she almost lost him.

She raced to Col. Potter's office and rushed in the double doors without knocking. The Colonel looked up startled.

"Sir, remember that week in Tokyo you offered me, and I said I didn't want. Well, I changed my mind," she blurted out.

Col. Potter leaned back in his chair, studying the frantic nurse. "Sure thing, Lieutenant. We haven't been too busy. When would you like to leave?"

"Now."

"Now?" he said, straightening. He studied her. "Have you been to see Radar yet?"

Jessie shook her head.

Col. Potter sighed. _Youngsters_. "Leave granted. Make sure you let Major Houlihan know. And let me know what hotel you're at in case we need you."

"Yes, sir!" Jessie answered as she raced out the door.

Twenty minutes later, she was rushing down the rutted road, holding on to the passenger side door, hurtling towards Tokyo.

Jessie had never been to Tokyo and would love to explore. But, not now. She checked into the Imperial Hotel, and multi-story facility that catered to rich businessmen and their wives before the war. A bellhop loaded her duffle bag into a cart and she followed into the elevator and rode it to the 10th floor.

After he was tipped and left, Jessie fell wearily onto the bed, still wearing her formal Army attire. She hadn't slept much on the short plane ride from Korea, but was soon sound asleep on top of the blankets.

********************************************

"What do you mean she's gone?" Hawkeye said incredulously. "She wouldn't let him out of her sight for hours, then once he wakes up, poof," he snapped his fingers for effect, "she's gone?"

Col. Potter shrugged. "The girl wanted to take her leave and take it right then. She certainly has earned it. Hadn't had any time off since she'd been here."

Hawkeye ran his hands through his hair. "Great! Radar has been asking for her practically since he woke up, and now what am I supposed to tell him?"

"Why don't you start with telling him the truth," Col. Potter suggested. "Tell him that she stood by his side the whole time, and when he woke up, she didn't want him to treat her like he had been treating her before-like shit." He shook his head. "Don't use those exact words. But, use something like that."

Hawkeye sighed heavily. "You know, this would be a whole lot easier if these two would just _talk_ to each other."

Col. Potter chuckled. "Aahh, to be young again."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes and returned to post-op. As he walked in, Radar sat up suddenly, wincing at the pain. When he saw that the doctor was alone, his face fell.

"Feeling better?" Hawkeye asked him, checking his pulse.

"A little. Did you find her?"

"Find who?" Hawkeye said, making a note on the chart. At Radar's expression he smiled. "Oh yes, the lovely Jessamyn Callahan." He scribbled some notes. "She's in Tokyo."

"T-tokyo?" Radar stammered. "But, she was here not that long ago . . ." He trailed off.

Hawkeye watched him to make sure he was OK.

"She left because of me, didn't she?"

Hawkeye sat on the edge of the cot. "You haven't exactly been Mr. Personality lately."

Radar picked at imaginary fuzz on the blanket. "Yeah, I guess I hadn't been exactly nice to her since we found out she was rich. I said some mean things to her, and really was mad at her, but only for a little while. Mostly, I didn't know how to make things right."

Hawkeye watched him intently.

Radar thought about how often he saw her fight back tears after he huffed away from her. "Some guy I am, huh?"

Hawkeye patted him on the leg. "If she hated you, she wouldn't have stayed in this room the whole time you were here. And I mean the _whole_ time."

Radar stared off into space. "I knew she was here. She was sad. And I guess it surprised me, you know."

"She's not a monster, Radar. Maybe a little misguided in her own mind, but there're much worse traits to have."

"I wanted to wake up and tell her everything was going to be OK, but I couldn't."

Hawkeye rose from the bed. "You know, you can still tell her. From what I hear, she's staying at the Imperial Hotel." He walked away, pleased with himself.


	13. Chapter 13

Jessie slept for three days. She was so exhausted, and the bed was so comfortable that she didn't want to get out of it. But eventually, she had enough and ordered room service, choosing half of their choices and eating most of it in one sitting. After ordering some magazines, she crawled back underneath the blankets.

Towards evening, she decided she wanted to see the town. Maybe there was something out there to help ease the pain in her heart, at least for a little while. Distance helped, but not like she hoped.

First, she jumped up and headed for the shower. A real shower with hot water and huge towels. She found herself steaming up the small room, soaping and re-soaping and washing her hair several times. Before long, she found herself singing.

It had been a long time since she'd even wanted to sing. Korea did that to a person.

**************************************

Radar brought his hand up to knock on the door for the seventh time, then stopped, Jessie's shower stall-singing wafting into the hallway.

_What am I thinking?_

He was so sure of himself when he left camp. The moment Hawkeye declared him well enough to travel, he caught the next jeep to Seoul, trying hard not to think about what happened the _last_ time he took off for R&R.

Sure, the guys at camp thought it was highly amusing that he was chasing her all the way to Tokyo, and they kidded him good-naturedly. Radar didn't care. He knew he had to see her.

Some of their other suggestions made him blush, even now. He didn't like them talking that way about her and let them know it.

_But, would she even want to see me?_

He clutched the daisies so tightly in his hand he thought the stems would break. He couldn't remember if she actually told him those were her favorite flowers, but somehow, he knew. Just like he knew her favorite song and her favorite food . . .

_But, not that she is an heiress._

_Or that a bomb was heading straight towards me in that jeep._

Strange how his ability could fail him at times he would have needed it most.

Squaring his shoulders, he adjusted his coat and finally knocked.

*********************************************

Jessie heard the faint rap on the door as she was taking her time dressing.

"Who in the world?" she said to no one in particular as she wrapped her hair in a towel. It wouldn't stay, and she made a face, drying her hair vigorously as she walked to the door. She had eaten enough to feed an army and hadn't ordered room service lately. Looking about the cluttered room, she knew who it was – the maid. The woman was put out by Jessie's sleeping habits and had wanted to get in her room for three days now.

Painting a polite smile on her face, she opened the door.

"Thanks, but . . ." Her smile faded, more out of disbelief than anything.

He looked a little pale and tired, but he smiled at her hesitantly. "Umm . . . hi."

Jessie was so dumbfounded, she didn't know what to say as they stood there staring at each other.

He shifted from one foot to the other. "I know that I . . . well I wanted to call but . . ." He trailed off, a little uneasy with her silence. If he weren't so blasted nervous himself, he would be able to gauge her mood better.

"I'm sorry," Jessie blurted. "I'm sorry for what I didn't say and I'm sorry for what I did say and I'm sorry I ran here without seeing you." It all tumbled out before she could stop it. "And, I'm sorry I chased you off to . . . get . . . hurt." Although he was plainly going to be just fine, just the thought of him lying injured on the side of the road was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She turned away, hoping he didn't notice. "Geez. Just come inside. I bet you had a long flight, and you're tired with your injuries at all and I'm surprised Colonel Potter let you leave because it's only been – what? Four days?" She shut the door behind him with a click as she rambled.

"Jessie?"

She didn't hear him as she rambled, taking the flowers from him. "I need to get something to put those in. That's sweet of you to remember they are my favorite. Have you eaten? I bet you didn't on that plane. The hotel has a wonderful . . ."

"Jessie!"

"What?" She was glad he stopped her, figuring she would ramble on into eternity.

"Have I ever told you I love you?"

She felt those stupid tears again! For the second time in two minutes, she was rendered speechless. All she could do was shake her head, clutching the daisies to her chest.

Radar didn't quite know where that sentiment came from either. It was not in the well-rehearsed speech he was going to give. But, he liked it just the same. "Well, I should have told you a long time ago. I think I've probably loved you since I first saw you . . ."

"When I ran into you in your office," Jessie whispered.

His eyes brightened. She remembered, too. "I loved you then, and I love you now, and I even loved you after your brother showed up . . ."

She threw her arms around him, trying to remember not to squeeze so tightly, the flowers still gripped in her hand.

Radar buried his face in her damp hair, not realizing how much he missed her until he had his arms around her. He was so caught up with the feel of her, he almost missed her whispered "I love you, too."

"I . . . I can't believe . . . I almost . . . lost you . . ." She just couldn't finish it.

He pulled away from her, trying to look into her eyes.

"Hey, Jess, it's alright," he said softly, brushing her tears away. "I'm fine, really I am."

She laughed through her tears. "I just can't believe you're _here_!" she said, flopping down on the sofa. "Especially after everything that happened-" She trailed off and sniffed. "Oh, you must think I'm such a crybaby, but I promise you I hardly ever cried until I came to this Godforsaken country."

Radar settled on the bed next to her. "I also want to say I'm sorry, too."

Jessie started to open her mouth. He raised a hand. "Let me finish."

She obediently shut her mouth and listened.

"I was an idiot for treating you the way I did. When I found out you had money, I suddenly felt unworthy of you, like I wasn't good enough. But, I was wrong." He studied his hands. "Yeah, I don't like that you kept it from me, but I understand that you didn't want to be judged on the money and not on who you are. Sort of." He took a deep breath. "There, I'm finished."

Jessie swallowed hard "When Hawkeye and I found you lying in all that blood on the stretcher . . ." Her voice faltered as she trailed off. He took her hand, and she gripped it tightly, afraid to let go as she finished. "Well, let's just say that it scared me. But, I didn't know how to make everything right again."

"When I was lying on that cold ground with bombs going off around me, I just kept thinking that I would never see home again or my mom. But, mostly, I thought that I wouldn't be able to see you." Gingerly, he pushed back a strand of her hair that had fallen across her face.

They both jumped at a knock on the door. "Who in the world is that?" she said, rising from the bed. "I can't take another shock." She unbolted the door, then composed herself. "Who is it?"

"Room service," a voice said. Jessie opened the door and was surprised to see a cart full of food. The maid barged right past Jessie. "But, I didn't order . . ."

"Soldier in your room. Want food," she pushed the cart right up to Radar. "Now, eat," she said, shaking a finger at Radar, who didn't need to be told twice. The elderly maid turned to leave the room, giving the still-surprised Jessie a knowing look.

"He need strength for later, no?" she said, winking at Jessie as she closed the door behind her, not waiting for an answer. She blushed furiously, but Radar didn't notice. He was happily digging into the feast.

Jessie sat down across from him, and he caught her up on the happenings at the 4077th between bites. Apparently, Klinger was attempting to be company clerk in his absence, and he was none too happy about it.

"Do you know that he already rearranged the file cabinets? I won't be able to find anything when I get back!" he said, stuffing the last bite in his mouth. He stifled a yawn, and Jessie jumped up.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" she said, pushing the tray out of the way.

"Well, I still need to find a hotel room," he said, wearily rising from the bed. "It won't look right to stay here."

Jessie smiled at his notion of protecting her reputation. "Don't be ridiculous." She firmly sat him back down on the bed. He tried to argue, but she shushed him as she pulled back the covers. "Besides, who's going to know? And, I won't tell if you won't."

He chuckled as he wearily took off his boots and crawled underneath the blankets. He was soon fast asleep.

Jessie watched him for a minute, then curled up next to him.

*****************************************

Radar woke the next morning feeling groggy, not knowing where he was. When he saw the classy white furniture and the tasteful pastel blue wallpaper, he sat straight up in bed.

_Jessie!_

He looked next to him– he knew she had slept there because he woke up once and felt her there – but it was empty. He fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand.

"Jess?" he called. The clock next to the bed said 10 a.m., and his stomach growled. It had been awhile since his feast the night before.

He crawled from the bed and realized he still had on his uniform-minus the coat-from the night before and stumbled into the living room, also decorated quite tastefully. He saw her sitting on the balcony, eating from a bowl of fruit and reading a newspaper.

_God, she was beautiful_!

He joined her out on the balcony.

Startled, she looked up from her paper. "Up so soon?" she said, offering him a piece of fruit.

He chose an apple and sat down next to her, taking a bite. _Real fruit!_

"I slept for three days when I first got here."

"Yeah, well, for the last few days, all I've had to do is sleep," he replied between bites. Finishing the apple, he reached for an orange.

She put down the paper. She waited until he finished the orange. "So, what would you like to do today?"

He looked surprised. "I heard there's this great zoo around here."

"Sure, but first things first, let's eat breakfast."

After a huge breakfast, the pair went to the zoo, then the park. For lunch, they ate at a little bistro that specialized in French food, of all things, then visited some of the local historic spots, holding hands along the way. Before they knew it, it was time for dinner, and they picked a combination restaurant/dance hall. After a huge meal, Jessie taught him the foxtrot and the two-step, and they laughed and giggled like teenagers, tripping over their own two feet most of the time.

It was late by the time they got back to the hotel, still laughing. Jessie unlocked the door to the suite and plopped down on a chair, pulling off her shoes.

"Whew, I'm worn out," rubbing her feet.

Radar nodded in agreement. "Now, I think I'll go try out this shower you have been raving about."

Jessie rolled her eyes to the heavens. "It's just wonderful! Imagine, hot water!"

He chuckled at her theatrics.

By the time he finished, she was sitting in the living room, curled up underneath a lamp with a book. Her hair, which she had worn up all day, was falling around her shoulders, and she was dressed in a hotel bathrobe, a big, fluffy one. She looked up at him as she put down her book.

"That didn't take long."

Radar shrugged, settling across from her on the couch. "Only you women take hour-long showers."

Jessie stuck out her tongue at him. "It seems to me you men are the ones who use up all the hot water at camp!"

"Probably because we outnumber girls six to one!"

She laughed, rising from the chair. "No wonder I get asked out on so many dates." She plopped down next to him on the couch and cuddled next to him, leaning on his shoulder. "You know, I don't think we've ever had a real date. You know, dinner, movie, that sort of thing.

Instinctively, Radar draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her in closer. "Yeah, but we don't need all that."

Jessie leaned back and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at all we've already been through. Dinner and dancing would seem a little . . . tame. Don't you think?"

She chuckled in agreement, settling back against his shoulder.

"Jess?"

"Umm?" She was almost asleep.

"What ever happened on your date with Jake?"

She grinned, but he couldn't see it. "I thought you weren't jealous."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well . . .you know."

"We went dancing. We ate a lot and drank a lot. Then, he took me home."

"That's it?"

"Yep, that's it."

"He didn't . . . try anything, did he?"

"Well, yeah. But, so did half the other pilots at the party."

Radar sighed with relief. "Good. You came back so late. And that dress . . ."

"Did you wait up for me?"

He blushed. "Well, yeah. It's not like I could sleep or anything."

"What would you have done if I hadn't come back?"

"Probably gotten drunk."

Jessie laughed. "One beer, huh?"

"I would be pretty mad. Maybe two."

She tilted her head back, so she could see him better. "Good to know I'm worth at least two beers!"

"At least!"

She settled next to him again. They both fell silent.

"Jess?"

"Umm?"

It was amazing that no matter how often they had been intimate, he still couldn't broach the subject. "Do you want to . . . I mean if you want to . . . we could . . . I'm not sure how to ask you . . ."

"I thought you'd never ask."

***************************************************

_The blade winked at him, almost as if it had a life all its own, daring him to make a move. Her blood was bright, almost an unnatural shade he had never seen before as it trickled down her neck. She struggled in the grip of her captor._

_"Stop, Walter, please!"_

_He stopped. Or at least, he thought he did. He felt like no matter how many steps he took, she was just as far away, that damned white dress blowing around her, looking like it was pulling her further into nothing._

_"Listen, don't do this," he heard himself saying to her captor._

_As in all the other dreams before, she didn't reply. He didn't know how he knew it was a woman without seeing any features. He just did._

_He watched in horror as the knife turned into a gun, a mean-looking black thing. If he didn't know any better, he would swear it looked alive, too, ready to mow down anything in its path._

_Before the woman in white pulled the trigger, Jessie cried out his name._

With Jessie's cry and the gunshot echoing in his mind, he sat straight up, his surroundings unfamiliar to him. It was the most vivid one he had had yet. But it ended in the same place each time. He never knew what happened.

Breathing heavily, trying to calm down, he jerked his arm away from her when she touched it.

She snapped on the lamp.

He put his head in his hands. "A . . . dream. It's just . . . a . . . stupid dream."

Grasping the blankets to her chest, she touched his back, surprised to feel he was trembling. "Tell me . . ."

"No!" he cried out immediately, his heart still racing.

She knew about those nightmares that give you cold sweats and the inability to return to sleep for the rest of the night. So, she remained silent.

They sat like that until his breathing slowed and the trembling ceased. He finally turned to look at her as she watched him wide-eyed, her long hair, tousled from sleep, curling about her bare shoulders.

"I didn't mean to yell."

"I understand."

He knew she did. Everyone who lived as they did understood.

He reached over with his free hand and brushed the hair from her freckled shoulder, his fingers lingering on her skin. He needed to chase away the final lingering memories, needed to prove to himself that she was alive and wasn't going anywhere. At least for a little while, he could convince himself of these things.

He didn't sleep for the rest of the night, but not because of the nightmare.

*********************************

After their first sight-seeing day, they didn't leave the room. They saw the maid, on occasion, who would smirk at them, and the various bellhops who would bring in carts of food. Since camp was not conducive to any sort of intimacy, they joked that they had to make up for lost time.

At the end of her last day, they clung to each other in the lobby of the hotel.

"Why don't you stay here?" she asked as they stood outside and waited for her ride to the airport.

"It would be lonely without you. Plus, you're not going to pay for my hotel room when you're not even in it."

She started to argue, but held her tongue. Money issues were still a little raw with them, and she wasn't going to push it.

When Jessie's cab arrived, they embraced one last time. As the cab pulled away, he waved at it until it was out of sight, then picked up his bags and walked downtown towards a nice, but cheaper, hotel.


	14. Chapter 14

_The 4077__th__ hadn't changed a bit_, Jessie thought as her driver pulled into the camp. He retrieved her bags for her, set them on the ground and tipped his hat at her as he drove off. She thought maybe she could sneak into her tent without anyone noticing.

No such luck. She spotted Hawkeye and B.J. making a beeline for her, both wearing their trusty natty bathrobes.

"The lady returneth," Hawkeye quipped, throwing his golf club he was using as a cane over one shoulder. He looked her up and down. "Looks a whole lot better than when she flew out of here, maybe well rested, perhaps – something else?"

Jessie blushed.

B.J. sighed at his friends' obvious lack of tact. "Welcome back, Jess," he said, taking on of her bags. "Have a good trip?"

She found herself grinning. "I had a wonderful time!"

"Oh, did you now?" Hawkeye asked. B.J. elbowed him in the ribs, but Hawkeye didn't care. "So, see much of the sights? How is good ol' Radar anyway?"

"Saw a few of them," Jessie said, reaching her tent. "But, mostly I stayed in bed. And slept." She added after Hawkeye's sniggers.

"Hope you were easy on him. You know, he _was_ injured," Hawkeye drawled.

Jessie gave him a murderous look. "Thanks for carrying my bags." She threw them into her tent. Straightening her jacket, she set her shoulders. "Now, I've got to report to Major Houlihan. Back to the old grindstone, huh?" She walked away, humming to herself while the captains grinned at each other.

************************************

She was in post-op when Radar arrived a few days later. She and B.J. were talking to one of the patients when he walked in the door looking for her. He had been back long enough to change and poke through the wasteland that was now his office before seeking her out. She was concentrating on her clipboard notes, but somehow knew it was him when he came into the room. They smiled at each other as their eyes met.

"Jess?" B.J. said, waving his hand in front of her face.

She started. "Oh, yes, sir. Twelve milligrams of cortisone every six hours," she said, scribbling on the clipboard. She rose from the soldier's bedside. "Excuse me for a minute, will you?" She replaced the clipboard on the foot of the bed and walked to the practically beaming corporal.

"Wow, I wish I had someone to greet me like that," the wounded soldier said, watching the two walk out the door. "What a lucky guy."

************************************

Col. Potter sighed as he sat down the phone with a plastic clank. He rubbed his eyes in frustration, muttering underneath his breath. He studied the message from I-Corp he had just taken and cursed.

"Radar!"

"Yessir?" Radar replied immediately, poking his head in the door. "I'll get the officers in here pronto."

"Get the officers in here pronto, will you?" Col. Potter said wearily. But, he was left talking to the swinging door.

A few minutes later, he could hear them coming.

"Pierce! You degenerate! How dare you say such things to me! I ought to have you flogged!" Margaret yelled.

"Promise?" Hawkeye said, leering at Margaret as they sauntered into the office. B.J., Charles and Father Mulcahy were close behind.

Margaret stomped her foot in annoyance. "You are the most annoying, dirty, un-gentlemanly-

"Quiet!" Colonel Potter bellowed.

They immediately hushed.

"So, Colonel, what's the rush? Peace declared? We've all been discharged?" B.J. asked, settling on the corner of the Colonel's desk.

Colonel Potter sighed. "I just got a message from I-Corp. It seems one of the aid stations at the front has been hit. Again. Their doctor and two nurses were injured. They want a doctor and nurse up there immediately until replacements can be sent. Any volunteers?"

They all remained silent, looking at each other. Margaret cleared her throat. "I'll volunteer, Colonel."

"Now, Major, you've gone up the front the last three times they've requested a nurse. While I appreciate your, err, loyalty, I do think you ought to let someone else go."

Margaret pursed her lips. "Very well, sir. But, I don't think you'll get any volunteering out of my nurses."

"Yeah, they all like to see tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that." Hawkeye said from the corner, inspecting his fingernails, then the fingernails of the ever-constant skeleton in the CO's office. "They're suffering from terminal living."

Margaret rolled her eyes and started to fire back at him.

The Colonel held up his hand for quiet. "We'll decide who goes the same way we decide which doctor goes."

Radar bustled into the room with two bedpans. "The nurses' names are in this one, and the doctors' names are in the other." He sat them in front of the Colonel.

"OK, who's going to do the honors?" Col. Potter said, picking up one of the bedpans and shuffling the names around. "Father? You mind?"

Father Mulcahy flinched slightly. "Not at all." He reached into the bedpan and pulled out a slip of paper. Slowly, he opened it.

"Captain B.J. Hunnicutt." He looked up at B.J. "Sorry."

B.J. shrugged. "Nothing's fair in love and war."

"OK, now for the nurse," Col. Potter said. The paper rattled loudly against the metal sides of the pan as the Father rifled around and pulled out a slip. He wordlessly unfolded it and looked at Radar.

"Lt. Jessie Callahan." He handed the slip of paper to the corporal.

Radar's eyes widened. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, jumping into action. "I'll go get the supplies together and get a jeep. They should be ready in an hour. Then, I'll radio I-Corp and tell them their replacements are on the way. I'll have Captain Hunnicutt's and Jessie's paperwork ready by then." He walked out the door without waiting for a reply.

When it shut behind him, he leaned heavily on his desk, breathing unsteadily.

*********************************

"Your serve, Kelleye!"

The volleyball whizzed over the makeshift net. Bigelow smacked it, and it flew back towards the out-of-bounds line. Jessie hit the dirt, volleying the ball before it reached the ground. Stacey spiked it, and Jessie couldn't rise in time. The ball went hurtling against a tent.

"Yes!" Stacey said, pumping her arms in victory. "We win!"

Kelleye helped Jessie up. Jessie rolled her eyes and swiped at the dirt on her bare legs.

"Up for another game?" Bigelow said, twirling the ball on the end of her finger. "We've beat you three times, but hey, who's counting?"

Jessie knew Bigelow was counting. She cracked her knuckles. "You're on!"

"Lt. Jessie Callahan, please report to Col. Potter's office immediately!" the loudspeaker interrupted.

Jessie looked down at her sweaty attire, now covered with dirt from her dive for the ball. "Think I should change first?"

"Not a chance," Bigelow said, leaning over the tent. "Sounds important."

"Yeah, you're right," Jessie said, wondering what it could be about. "Wonder if I made Hotlips mad somehow-again."

"That's certainly a possibility 'round here," Stacey agreed.

Jessie jogged across camp. She was breathless by the time she burst into Radar's office. He was no where to be found. She shrugged and walked to Col. Potter's door, knocking on it hesitantly.

"Sir, it's me," she said, hoping she didn't sound nervous. With Major Houilihan, there was no telling what could be in store.

"Come in, Lieutenant," Col. Potter said. He looked up and motioned Jessie towards a chair. "Sit down."

Jessie obediently sat and nervously cleared her throat. "Sorry for my clothes, Colonel. We- the nurses and I-were playing volleyball."

"Did you win?"

Jessie shrugged. "Against Sara Bigelow, the Texas volleyball state champ? Don't count on it!"

Col. Potter chuckled.

Jessie coughed. "Sir, if this is about my latest supply count . . ."

"No, no, Lieutenant. This has nothing to do with the Major."

She sighed with relief. But, something in the Colonel's demeanor kept her a little uneasy. "Is there something wrong, sir?"

He showed her the memo from I-Corp. "They need a nurse at one of the aid stations, and it looks like you're it. You and Capt. Hunnicutt will be leaving in about an hour. Radar is getting the supplies ready for you."

Jessie dumbly took the memo. The words 'nurse' and 'wounded' jumped out at her, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. "Well, I – um - better get packed."

"Wait, Jess," Col. Potter said kindly. She sat back down. "Have you ever been to the front?"

Jessie shook her head.

"You'll do just fine. You're a good nurse with a level head."

"I'm glad you believe in me, Colonel." _Because I don't know if I believe in myself._ "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, how exactly did my name get chosen?"

Col. Potter leaned back in his chair. "Very scientific. We drew names out of a bedpan."

Jessie laughed, glad for the humor to ease her fear, at least for a moment. "Seems fitting somehow, doesn't it?"

When Radar returned from supply, he was surprised to hear laughter coming from Col. Potter's office. He sure didn't feel like laughing.

"Sir, here's the Lieutenant's paperwork," he said, bursting through the double doors. He avoided Jessie's eyes as he sat the forms in front of her. "Klinger's getting the supplies gathered up for you and Capt. Hunnicutt. The jeep will be ready in a half hour. Zale said something about an axle not axling or something like that."

He continued his rant as he pointed where she should sign on the forms the Army required on personnel traveling to the front, still not meeting her gaze. She didn't seem half as scared as he thought she should be, and that irritated him that she was braver.

He leaned on the desk as he pointed the places needing her signature with his right. "Sign here and here," he said tersely.

Jessie obediently scrawled her name on the lines.

Impulsively, she reached over and placed her hand on his as they continued the endless paperwork. He continued flipping through the forms as methodically as before, but he gripped her hand tightly in his, hoping some of her bravado would rub off on him.

Col. Potter remained silent, watching.

After signing the last one, she looked at Radar. "I didn't read any of this. You're not going to own my part of my father's estate, are you?" She hoped to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, but his eyes were miserable. She squeezed his hand again.

He opened his mouth to reply, but instead felt tears come to his eyes. Before she or Col. Potter could see them, he let go of her hand. "I'll just get these filed and check on Zale," he mumbled and trudged out the door.

She rose from the chair. "Well, I guess that's that."

Col. Potter rose also. "We expect you and B.J. back in a couple of days, Lieutenant."

Jessie turned and saluted. Under her breath, she added, "I just hope someone told the Chinese snipers that."

**********************************************

Radar wasn't in his office, and Jessie bit her lip in frustration. As scared as she was, it touched her deeply to see him just as terrified. But, she didn't have time to wait.

She walked briskly across the camp, not really noticing any of the day-to-day hustle and bustle going on about her. With each step she took, she kept thinking about her assignment. _The front. The front_.

She was startled when she entered her tent to find the nurses in various states of relaxation. They all looked up at her expectantly.

"So, what did the Major have on you now? Were you one off on the count of tongue depressors? Did you not fold the extra blankets in correct military fashion?" Bigelow said, idling painting her toenails with Jessie's polish.

"No, it-it wasn't anything to do with the Major." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to the front. With B.J.," she said idly. All of the girls gasped. Mechanically, Jessie reached for her duffle bag and starting cramming clothes into it.

"How long will you be gone?" Kelleye asked, sitting up on Jessie's cot, her magazine forgotten.

"Until replacements arrive. Could be one day, could be a week, I suppose," Jessie replied from deep within in footlocker. "You know how the Army is."

"Are you scared?"

Jessie's head popped up. She couldn't think about being scared now. "Have any of you ever been up there?"

Bigelow nodded. "I have. Once. And I can't sugarcoat it for you. It's terrible. Much worse than here."

Jessie swallowed and slowly resumed packing. "That's what I was afraid of."

"So, how did you get picked? Sausages in a bedpan?"

Jessie couldn't help but smile at the picture that made. "No on the sausages, but yes on the bedpan. Father Mulcahy drew my name out of it."

"Fitting, isn't it? The bedpan."

Jessie laughed. "That's what Col. Potter and I thought, too!"

They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

"You know, it could have just as easily been one of us," Stacey said quietly.

Kelleye shuddered at the thought. "What happened to the staff that was there?"

"Wounded, pretty severely according to I-Corp. The doctor was killed. They think one of the nurses may lose a leg," Jessie replied, ignoring the ripple of fear down her spine. She stripped off her dirty shirt and shorts and replaced them with her fatigues, glad for the diversion. Just the thought of being up there made her palms sweat.

Kelleye reached underneath the cot. "I guess you'll need this."

Jessie held the helmet at arm's length, feeling quite morbid. "You guys really think this thing could withstand a direct hit from a bullet or bomb?"

"God, I hope you don't have to find out!" Bigelow said honestly. She finished her last toe and wiggled them expectantly. "But, if you don't come back, can I have your nail polish?"

Jessie threw a magazine at her. "I tell you what. If I don't make it back, you all can have free range on anything left in this tent."

"I bet we'll have to fight Klinger for your clothes!" Stacey replied. She pulled a dress out of Jessie's makeshift closet. "I bet he'll look good in this one!"

"Don't forget the matching shoes and purse!" Jessie said.

"And earrings!" Kelleye added.

The nurses laughed, only because it eased the tension in the room.

Jessie wiped her eyes. "Thanks, guys. I think if I had to pack by myself, I would have gone nuts!" She tightened her duffle bag and tied it shut.

Before anyone could reply, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Enter if you dare!" Bigelow called out playfully. She touched her nail polish gingerly to see if it was dry.

Radar walked hesitantly inside, his hands buried deep in his pockets. "Jeep's about ready. Klinger's got all the supplies packed up. Thought you might wanna know." His distress was obvious to everyone in the tent.

"C'mon girls, let's go," Kelleye said, taking a hint while fanning her sweaty shirt away from her chest. "After two hours of volleyball, I'm sure we're stinking up Jessie's tent worse than the Swamp!"

"I don't think it could get that bad," Radar muttered.

Each of the nurses wished Jessie well.

Jessie shook her finger at Bigelow. "I expect all my polish to be here!"

Bigelow grinned at Jessie as she teetered out the door, not wanting to mar the color. "Just make sure you come back! I'd rather have you around than the polish!"

After the last nurse had left, Jessie blew an errant strand of hair out of her face. "What a day, huh?"

"I almost left your name out because I figured no one would ever know," Radar blurted out. "But, I didn't because it didn't seem right, you know?" He jammed his hands back into his pockets. "Now, I wished I had."

"People go to the front all the time and make it back alright. I'll be just fine." Jessie shrugged, hoping she sounded convincing. And unafraid. She didn't want to add to his obvious concern. But, her mind starting reeling. _What if I don't make it back? What if I never see home or my family or . . ._

She felt fear grip her throat tightly and turned away before he could tell.

But, he could always tell.

Sometimes it was more than a little frustrating knowing there wasn't much she could keep from him.

Just as she thought, he could feel the fear radiating from her as she methodically started stuffing more belongings into her duffle bag.

"Hey," Radar said, touching her arm softly. "Hey, look at me, Jess."

Jessie used a shirt to wipe at her tears before she complied. He brushed one she missed off her cheek softly, then wrapped his arms around her.

She buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm scared."

"I know. I'm scared, too" he replied honestly, lightly kissing her hair.

She took a ragged breath and pulled away, wiping her eyes. "Promise me something."

"What's that?"

"If-if I don't make it back . . ."

He started to protest, but she stopped him, continuing in a stronger voice. "If I don't make it back, you write the letter back home. Write it to Mattie, not my father. He's not very good about reading his mail. My family wouldn't know I was . . .dead for a month!"

Radar flinched at her last statement.

Jessie noticed it, but wasn't to be deterred. "Promise?"

All he could do was nod.

Klinger knocked on the door. "Jeep's ready."

Jessie pulled away reluctantly and plopped her helmet on her head.

Radar couldn't help but smile.

"Do I look like a soldier, now?" she asked, smiling back.

"You're too pretty to be a soldier." He threw her heavy duffle over his shoulder and held open the door for her. Across the camp, Father Mulcahy was blessing their battered jeep, and a small crowd had gathered to wish them well.

"Do you think the Bible really has a jeep blessing in it? I've seen him do that several times since I've been here," she whispered as they walked closer, arm in arm.

"You know, if God wrote the Bible today, I'm sure he would have put one in it."

When they reached the jeep, Radar threw her duffle on top of the other supplies in the back. B.J. was already in the driver's seat.

Jessie gave Radar's hand one last squeeze and climbed in next to the captain.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose." She gave Radar a brave smile, which he didn't return, as she grabbed the dash to brace herself. B.J. put the vehicle into gear, and they took off in a cloud of Korean dust.

The crowd watched them go until they disappeared around Rosie's Bar. One by one, they walked away, continuing their day, until only Radar and Hawkeye were left. Hawkeye threw his arm around Radar's neck. "They'll be alright."

Radar didn't reply. He sure hoped so.


	15. Chapter 15

_Bigelow was right, this has got to be pure hell._ Jessie rubbed her sore arms as she leaned against the remains of a wall that had been blown away God knows when. She opened one eye wearily as B.J. plopped down beside her. He patted her on the leg.

"We did good work today." He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes.

"Well, let's not do too good of a job, or they'll make us stay permanently."

B.J. chuckled in agreement.

"You know, I don't think I'm ever going to complain again when we get back to camp. We were living in splendor compared to this." She motioned towards the wounded they had operated on tirelessly for hours as shells fell nearby and bullets thunked into trees outside the battered aid station. She held out what was left of her meal.

"Peaches?" she offered.

B.J., his eyes still closed, held up his hand. "No thanks. I don't think my stomach can handle fruit that ripened 20 years ago."

She shrugged and finished her meal. He stirred, then rooted around in his jacket pocket until he came out with a picture of his daughter "I got several this morning. That was my favorite."

Jessie smiled at the cute little girl grinning up at the camera. "She doesn't look a thing like you. Must take after her mother."

"Ha, ha. So, how come I've never seen pictures of your home?"

"You never asked. But, I have them, too, just no cute baby pictures. You know, family, dog. . ." She rooted in her pocket as she talked. "You're in luck." She pulled out a photograph she had almost forgotten was there.

B.J. pointed to the house in the background. "Beautiful place. That yours?"

"Sort of. My brother gets the house, but my sister and I split the acreage."

He pointed. "Who are they?"

"That's Mattie and Arthur. Mattie's the cook, maid, etc., and Arthur does odd jobs around the house and stables."

"I heard you own race horses. Classy."

She shrugged. "The horses are great. The politics are not."

"Don't complain. I can't stand rich whiners."

Jessie eyed B.J., but he grinned at her. "Just kidding."

"Good."

He paused for a moment before continuing. "You know, I've been wanting to tell you something."

"What's that?" she asked, yawning and stretching.

"I'm glad you and Radar are together. He's a good guy, and he deserves someone like you."

She blushed. "Thanks."

"Will there be wedding bells in the future?"

Her eyes widened. "Good Lord, B.J.! I don't even know if I'm going to live through the night, let along this war, and you're asking about weddings?"

He laughed at her reaction. "I bet you didn't know there's a pool going around about you two?"

"A _what_?"

"A betting pool. Everyone's betting on how long it'll be until you're engaged. Or pregnant, which ever comes first."

Jessie was glad it was dark, so he couldn't see her face. "Why, of all the crazy things I've ever heard, that has to be the dumbest!" she managed to sputter.

"You know how it goes."

She shrugged, her momentary flash of anger fading. "True. It's not like I've been a saint in _that_ department." She and the nurses regularly gossiped about anyone who wasn't around.

A shell exploded in the distance.

B.J. patted her on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, Lieutenant. It'll be morning before you know it."

She settled down into her thin army blanket, the only thing she had to ward off the chill in the air. "I certainly hope we live to see it," she muttered. Laying her head back, she caught a glimpse of the clear night sky through the shell-scarred roof. The twinkling starts were comforting, and she soon found herself sound asleep.

***************************************************

At the 4077th, Radar was not fairing well. After tossing and turning for an hour, he sighed and rose from his cot, throwing on his bathrobe. _Might as well work if I can't sleep_. He went to his desk and flipped on the lamp. The dim bulb cast a wan glow over the organized chaos scattered across the desktop. He rifled through the stack until he found the daily duty roster, then thumped across the floor in his unlaced boots outside to the bulletin board. Careful not to dislodge the other camp news and goings-on precariously tacked to the board, he removed the old roster and replaced it.

He ambled back to his office and flopped down at his desk. "Now, where did I put that stupid weekly report?" he muttered to himself.

He opened up drawer after drawer, flipping through stacks of forms, paperwork and other flotsam accumulated over the months. He paused at the bottom of one drawer.

Inside was a photo of Jessie and himself taken not long after she had arrived at a party they had thrown for the orphans. She had been conned into playing a fortune teller, and each person paid a quarter to have their fortunes told, all proceeds going to Sister Teresa's orphanage. In the photograph, she was holding onto his hand, palm up and laughing, wearing the ridiculous fortune-teller garb provided by Klinger that actually managed to look lovely on her.

Radar had to chuckle when he thought about how many dollars he spent just to have her touch his hand.

He gingerly picked up the photo and leaned back in his chair heavily. Sometimes, he thought being with her was a dream, and he'd wake up one day, all of it vanished. He found it hard to believe that she loved him. And now, the war might take all of it away.

_If something happened to her . ._ .

He squeezed his eyes shut against the thought. Honestly, he thought if she died, part of him would die also. He cared for her that much. Gingerly, he returned the picture to the desk drawer, then wandered outside into the still night. Plopping on a makeshift bench outside the office, he leaned against the wall.

This waiting was going to kill him. He tried to stay busy throughout the day, and each time the phone rang, he would jump, praying it wasn't bad news. So far, they hadn't heard a word, although Radar had gotten news that the fighting up there had been pretty bad. It made his chest hurt to think about her up there, scared, and he said a quiet prayer. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked up at the twinkling stars.

If he went to sleep, he was afraid of the nightmare. Jessie's nightmare. He couldn't handle that right now. He just couldn't.

**************************************************

Two days later, Jessie and B.J. were barreling towards the 4077th. The replacements had arrived a couple of hours earlier. When they got a glimpse of Jessie and B.J. all grimy and bloody, they looked like they wanted to run all the way back to the states. Jessie genuinely felt sorry for them.

B.J. stopped the jeep just outside the camp. "I never thought I would be glad to see this dump again. Do you think they missed us?"

"They better have! Too bad we couldn't radio them we were coming back. Might have had one helluva party waiting for us."

They quietly watched all the activity going on in camp. Jessie, anxious to get out of the blood-stained clothes she had worn for three days, pounded once on the dash. "Well, what are you waiting for? Peace? Let's go home!"

"Yes ma'am!" B.J. said, grinding the gears as he struggled with the shifter. They lurched forward towards camp.

********************************************

No word from them for three days. _Three days_! The sergeant at I-Corp had long sense gotten annoyed at Radar, Col. Potter and Hawkeye for constantly calling. He had the same message for them he had given them all three days. "Heavy fighting. Heavy casualties. No word on medical personnel."

After hearing the message for the seventeenth time, Colonel Potter slammed down the phone in frustration. "Damn Army."

Radar watched him closely, chewing on a pencil. "Every time we've sent nurses and doctors, they have never stayed this long!"

"I know, I know. We just need to be patient, that's all." Funny thing, though. Colonel Potter wasn't a patient man.

Radar opened his mouth to reply, but stopped.

"Choppers?" Col. Potter asked, studying his clerk closely.

Radar shut his eyes, concentrating. _Is it really?_ His eyes flew open and he rushed for the door. "No sir, it's them! They're back! They're OK!"

Col. Potter jumped from his desk and followed.

***************************************************

The jeep had just halted in the compound. People were coming from all directions to welcome their comrades back. Hawkeye sauntered up to B.J. and shook his hand.

"Boy, you know how to make an entrance! Next time, call first. We'll bake you a cake."

"Well, we would have called, but the phones had been blown into World War III. And I slept through smoke signals during training." B.J. climbed from the jeep and wrapped his bunkmate in a bear hug. "Good to see you, Hawk."

"You, too, Beej." Hawkeye waved at Jessie, who was still standing in the jeep, gathering their supplies. "Jess, you look horrible."

She smirked at him. "Good to see you, too, Hawkeye." Painfully, she straightened, her hands on her back. "B.J., next time, I drive. I think you hit every pothole in Korea."

"I hope there won't _be_ a next time."

Jessie grasped the windshield of the jeep preparing to climb out. She glanced around the compound before she spotted him coming around the corner.

She grinned and jumped out into Radar's arms. He caught her and spun her around. Totally catching her off guard, he kissed her, something he rarely did in front of everyone. She completely forgot about the last 72 hours, as well as the camp catcalling around them as she returned the embrace.

When they came up for air, Jessie managed to gasp, "Well, I missed you, too!"


	16. Chapter 16

"Attention all personnel!" the PA system blurted.

Jessie and the nurses didn't even halt from their gossip fest at the breakfast table.

"There is a surprise arriving in the compound. The Colonel has managed to commandeer us some entertainment for the evening. Touring with the USO tour and singing for your enjoyment this afternoon straight from Nashville will be Mark Stewart! The concert will begin at 3 p.m."

Jessie choked on her coffee, almost spewing it across the table on Kelleye.

"What?" Kelleye said, watching Jessie turn green.

"What a minute . . . Mark?" Bigelow said, snapping her fingers. She smiled slowly like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, this could get interesting."

Jessie stood up awkwardly, almost knocking her table over, as trucks pulled into the compound.

"Yeah, interesting is one way to put it," she said as she darted out the door. She skirted past the trucks, wondering which one contained Mark. Too late, she saw him pour himself out of the next truck in line. She stood there, frozen, watching his brown eyes take in the camp. Without thinking, she darted into the next tent she came to, finding a place to hide.

"Well, well, well, welcome to our humble abode," Hawkeye drawled. "How can we be of service?"

Jessie frantically turned to look out the window on the door. Mark was coming for the tent, an expectant look on his face. _He had spotted her_!

She bolted to B.J.'s empty cot. "You have absolutely, positively got to hide me!" She pulled the covers over her head. She poked her head back out. "Remember, I'm B.J., and I'm not here."

"You certainly aren't all here," Hawkeye said, raising an eyebrow at her behavior. Just then, there came a knock on the tent door.

Mark entered. "Um, excuse me? Did a girl just come into this tent?" He eyed the suspicious lump in the other cot.

Hawkeye thrust a drink into his hand. "Nope, no girls here," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "And trust me, I would know if there were any." Mark absently took a large swallow of his drink.

"God, that's horrible!" he managed to choke, but finished the drink and handed the glass to Hawkeye. "Had better stuff than that come out of a radiator." He stuck out his hand. "Sorry to be rude, but my name's Mark. Just arrived in town to do a little singin' for y'all."

"Oh yes, the USO tour," Hawkeye said, laying the glass down. He grinned devilishly. "So, who did you think had come into my tent, pray tell?"

Mark tipped his hat back on his head. "Oh, just someone from back home I know who's supposed to be stationed here. Jessamyn Callahan."

"Oh yes, Jessie's around," Hawkeye said innocently. "Why don't you try post-op." At Mark's blank look, he pointed towards the building across the way.

"Much obliged," Mark said, leaving the tent.

After Jessie didn't reemerge from the blankets, Hawkeye walked over a poked her with his finger.

"Your ex-prince has gone, Sleeping Beauty."

Jessie reached out from underneath the blanket and swatted at his hand. "Stop it!" she hissed. "I'm not leaving here until after the concert. I'm staying right here!"

Hawkeye pulled the blanket back and tossed it on the floor. "I somehow think B.J. won't be thrilled with you come bedtime tonight."

Jessie sighed and sat up. "Do you think I can manage to avoid him until this silly USO thing is over?"

"No chance."

She sighed. "Well I can at least try." She jumped up, peering cautiously out the tent before she escaped.

"Remember, you didn't see me!" she yelled back into the tent.

She snuck into her tent, locking the door. But, it hit her. Realizing someone could point him to her tent, she threw open the door, only to see Mark walking around the corner of the neighboring tent, sauntering along with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

She bolted, running straight across the compound into Radar's office. She leaned against the door, peeking outside. _He was following her_!

Radar was sitting at his desk, watching Jessie strangely. "What's wrong?"

She rushed towards his desk, shoving him lightly out the way.

"What . . .?"

"Now, pretend I'm not here," she hissed as he peered curiously at her now scrunched up underneath his desk.

The door to his office was thrown open. Mark's eyes adjusted to the darkness as he saw Radar, who had greeted him when he arrived at the camp.

Radar hadn't realized who he was, but had an idea now, since Jessie was nervously picking at the hem of his pants underneath his desk.

"Excuse me? I was just looking for someone who I thought just ran into here. Have you seen a little lady about so tall with red hair?" Mark asked, peering around the empty room. "It's someone I knew from home who I think is trying to avoid me."

Everything clicked. Radar narrowed his eyes, but remained polite.

"Nope, haven't seen anyone," he said, crossing his arms. He felt Jessie pat his leg from underneath the table.

Mark scratched his head. "Dern, I could have sworn . . .must be seeing things," he smiled. "Well, if you see her, tell her Mark Stewart's looking for her." He offered his hand to Radar, who reluctantly took it, and left the room.

"He's gone," Radar said, moving to help Jessie out from underneath his desk.

She plopped down on the side of his cot.

"That's Mark, isn't it? _The_ Mark?" he asked, watching her closely.

Jessie nodded and gulped. "I plan on avoiding him as long as I can."

Radar put his hands in his pockets. "Why do you need to avoid him?" he asked hesitantly. "It's not like you – well– still like him." He looked at her. "Do you?"

Jessie sighed and remained silent.

Radar sat beside her on the cot. He wasn't too thrilled with her silence.

"Not anymore. Finding someone in bed with your father's maid has that affect on some people," she finally said.

Radar slumped a bit in relief. "Then what's there to be afraid of?"

"Honestly?" Jessie said, picking at fuzz on his pants leg, "I'm afraid that I'll actually fall for him again if he keeps poking around here. He can be charming, that one."

Now it was Radar's turn to be silent in thought.

Jessie squeezed his hand after a minute or two. "Don't be mad at me."

Radar chuckled. "Oh, I'm not mad. And I really don't think you'll find yourself with Mark again. He's not your type."

"And just who is my type?" she asked playfully.

"Well, I am," he replied innocently.

Jessie kissed him. "I've got to be in post-op in ten minutes. Guess I have to face him at some time, don't I?" She gave his hand one last squeeze before she left. "Hey, thanks for believing in me!"

Radar watched her run across the compound. _Yeah, I just hope I'm right._

_***********************************_

Sure enough, Jessie wasn't in post-op for 15 minutes when she felt someone watching her. She looked up from the letter she was taking for a soldier and saw Mark with his eyes on her from across the room, a huge smile on his face. Jessie ignored him and took a huge breath.

"Hey, you alright?" the soldier said. "You look a little sick."

Jessie patted the wounded soldier's bandaged arm. "You're one to talk. Especially since you're in the hospital bed, and I'm not. Now, where were we?" she said, posing pencil on paper.

After finishing the letter, Jessie rose from the bed and walked down the center aisle. Mark met her halfway.

"I heard you were in this part of the woods," she said, trying to brush past him. "Never thought you'd have the guts to get anywhere near a war."

Mark reached out and caught her arm, pulling her into a bear hug. Jessie struggled in his grasp, but he was stronger. "I've missed you, you know. Even the smart-ass comments."

He finally let her go. Jessie straightened her coat and remained silent.

Mark crossed his arms in front of him. "This is the part where you're supposed to say you missed me, too."

Jessie shrugged, also crossing her arms in front of her. "So, when do you leave?"

"Oh, we do a concert this afternoon, then fly out of here tomorrow morning," he drawled. Jessie looked up into his eyes – he was a good few inches taller than her – and felt nothing. Except maybe a little bit of contempt.

"Good, I'll be counting the hours. Now, excuse me, but I have work to do." She brushed past him, but he grabbed her arm again.

"Mark? It is Mark, isn't it?" Charles had watched the exchange from across the room, and this man's behavior was galling, to say the least.

"Yeah?" Mark eyed Charles suspiciously.

Jessie took advantage of Mark's momentary distraction and yanked her forearm out of his grasp, glancing at Charles appreciatively.

"Well, Mark, you're going to leave a mark if you keep doing that. The Army doesn't take it lightly when you damage their goods. The doctors don't take it lightly either. Good nurses are hard to come by in this lovely part of the world."

"Look, I'm sorry," Mark said, managing to actually look sorry.

"Just don't let it happen again." Charles nodded in Jessie's direction before heading back to his post.

"I'm sorry I slept with that girl, and I'm sorry I treated you badly," Mark continued, looking at the floor.

"I think it's more like you're sorry you got caught. Now, these wounded don't take care of themselves, so please excuse me." Jessie turned around and started her rounds on the other side of post-op, knowing she couldn't brush past him again.

************************************************

"Hey, guys, mind if I join?" Mark said, entering the Swamp. Hawkeye, B.J., Col. Potter and Radar were playing poker.

"Got any cash?" Hawkeye asked. Mark pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket, and Hawkeye grinned and moved over. "We always like a fresh face around here. Have a drink," he said as he pushed a glass of homemade gin Mark's way. Mark drank it without shuddering, and Hawkeye and B.J. made a surprised face at each other.

Mark sat, and they played a few hands in silence.

"Hey, you're pretty good," Col. Potter said, eyeing Mark as he raking in another pot. "Jessie didn't take to poker like I thought a good Texan should."

Mark chuckled as he organized the bills. "She never was good at bluffing. Always could tell what she was thinking." He took another slug of gin. "You know, I think she's really mad at me this time."

"Oh really," B.J. said, trying not to be too sarcastic. "How could you tell?"

"Well, I can't seem to charm her like I used to," he dealt the cards. "Deuces and sixes wild. One touch from me, and she used to go to putty. Now," he shrugged. "Army must have made her hard."

"Or she got some common sense," Radar mumbled, but Mark didn't hear.

"But, guys, I think I have the way to win her back this time," Mark said, swilling down another slug of gin and not noticing the tension in the room.

"Well, if it's drinking everyone under the table, then you'll probably win," Hawkeye said.

"Nope, I got this," he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a box. He opened it and an engagement ring glittered enticingly back.

"Now, I don't know about that. Jessie's actually . . ." B.J. started, but was interrupted by a kick under the table. "Ow!" he said, wondering what had gotten into Radar. He was glaring at B.J. from across the table.

Mark missed the exchange.

"I plan on getting her onstage and proposing to her during the concert tonight," he shut the box and put it back in her pocket. "When she sees how honest I am, and that I truly am sorry, she'll take me back." He threw back his final glass and gathered his winnings. "Hey, thanks for the booze and the company," he said, sauntering out the door. "Got to practice a bit."

"What in the world are you doing?" B.J. asked, still rubbing her sore shin and glaring at Radar. "Why didn't you tell him?"  
"Yeah, Jessie was right when she said he was full of himself," Col. Potter said, rubbing his eyes. "That boy could start the Conceited Hall of Fame." He also eyed his company clerk. "And why didn't you want to tell him?"

"Well, I want this to play all the way out," he said, fidgeting with the cards in front of him. "Jessie's a little nervous that she'll have some sort of feelings for him again, and I want her to be sure she doesn't. But, I don't think she will."

Hawkeye patted Radar on the shoulder. "Takes a brave man to put that oaf in the path of his woman. But, if it makes you feel any better, Charles told me that she did an ice queen impression today in post op that would make you proud."

Radar chuckled half-heartedly.

*****************************************

Reluctantly, Jessie allowed herself to be dragged to the make-shift stage in the middle of camp by Kelleye and Bigelow. Mark was already into his first song when she took her seat in the back. He spotted her immediately.

Jessie had forgotten how good he was. Not only could he sing, but he could perform, too. He had all the women practically eating out of his hands.

All except for Jessie, of course.

"Now, there's someone out her tonight that I know you all know real well," he said, finishing up another song. "I've also heard that you know she can really belt one out, too." The crowd erupted into cheers. "Come on up here, Jessie!"

Jessie shook her head no, but the crowd cheered louder. Finally, she sighed, shrugged and walked onto stage.

Mark helped her up the stairs and gave her a microphone. "What shall we sing, pretty lady?" he asked, grinning at her.

Jessie couldn't help but smile back.

************************************

Hawkeye and B.J. walked up behind Radar, who was leaning on some crates near the stage, watching the pair intently.

"Sure this is a good idea?" Hawkeye asked. Jessie looked mighty happy to be up there with him. Although he wasn't a country music fan, they also sounded quite good together.

Radar never took his eyes off her. "She enjoys the singing. Not the company."

****************************************************

Jessie was practically breathless after a few songs. When Mark suggested another, Jessie shook her head.

"I'm way out of shape," she said, handing him back the microphone. The crowd booed, and Jessie caught sight of Radar, Hawkeye and B.J. at the corner of the stage. Radar's troubled look disturbed her.

"Don't go just yet," Mark said, handing over Jessie's mike to a member of his crew. "Now, all of you might not know this, but I've known Jess here for awhile, actually since we were about this high," he said toward the crowd. "We actually used to play in the creek together when we were five. Skinny-dipping that is." The nurses in the back cheered. Jessie glared at the crowd, but kept quiet. She didn't dare look at Radar.

"Now, I don't think they're interested in all that," Jessie said, trying to back off the stage.

Mark held up his hand, and she stopped. "OK, no more personal stories." The crowd jeered in disagreement, making Jessie blush.

After the crowd quieted, Mark continued. "Now, I've also come this close to marrying this girl, but I screwed it up when I screwed around." Now, it was the nurses turn to boo. Jessie wished the stage would swallow her up and crossed her arms protectively in front of her.

"Here it comes," Radar whispered to Hawkeye and B.J.

"I've come all the way from Texas to Korea, not only to apologize for my actions, but to ask this fine lady if she would once again consider being my wife." Mark whipped out the ring and got down on one knee.

Jessie froze as the crowd tittered.

"Mark, I really don't think this is the time or place for this," she hissed at him, trying to make him get up from the stage. "Let's talk about this somewhere else."

He grinned at her. "Oh, I see, you want a little privacy to show me how much you missed me. I get it."

Jessie rolled her eyes.

"Excuse me audience, but I'll be right back," he said, jumping off stage. The band immediately launched into a tune. He offered Jessie his hand, but she ignored it and walked down the steps herself. She stalked off behind the nearest tent ahead of Mark.

***************************************

"You think we should go over there?" Hawkeye asked, watching a very pensive Radar.

"She'll be OK," he said, hoping he was right.

********************************************

Jessie stood there with her hands on her hips when Mark finally made it behind the tent. He pulled her in his arms.

"Nice touch, getting away from the crowd. Here, let me put this on your finger," he said, grabbing Jessie's left hand. She snatched it away and struggled out of his grasp.

"First of all, you are the biggest ass I've ever seen," she said, keeping her voice down. "You only want what you can't have! Once you get me back, you'll be up to your same old tricks again."

Mark put his hands in front of him, looking hurt. "Wait a minute."

"No! I don't know what stunt you were trying to pull out there, but the answer is no. N.O. As in never!"

Mark's eyes narrowed. "There's someone else isn't there."

Jessie snorted. "The last time I checked, I didn't have to ask your permission to date. You lost that privilege after you screwed around."

Mark watched her closely. "It's that Hawkeye Pierce, isn't it? That bastard, I played cards in his tent after lunch . . ."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Dating Hawkeye Pierce would be like dating you. And it's still none of your business."

Before Mark could respond, the sound of choppers filled the air.

"I believe we're finished here," Jessie said coldly.

*************************************************

It was past midnight when they came stumbling out of the OR. Jessie walked to the mess tent. She and Radar always met there to have coffee after a long OR session. She wasn't surprised to see him already there, sitting alone at one of the tables. There were just a few other people in there this time of night.

Jessie sat wearily across from him and grabbed the second cup of coffee he had fixed. She took a weak sip and watched him closely, so tired, she didn't mind the quiet.

"You said no, didn't you?" he said, finally breaking the silence. He smiled, and she returned it.

"You know I did."

**********************************************

"Of course, she said no," Hawkeye said, clapping Radar on the back. "Taste, the woman was raised to have taste!"

"Congratulations, kid, you're not in the dating pool again!" B.J. said, grinning at Radar from underneath his mustache. "Did you just find out?"

"Yeah, she just told me," he said, turning down a glass of gin from Hawkeye. "Of course, I knew it all along."

"Sure you did," Hawkeye said.

Charles rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the entire conversation.

************************************************

Jessie hummed to herself as she walked back from the showers. She had a long, tiring day and was actually looking forward to her rumpled cot.

Before she reached her tent, a figure loomed before her. She stifled a scream until she realized who it was.

"Mark!" she hissed. She hadn't even given him a second thought since the concert. "What are you doing out here?" She wrinkled her nose at the smell of alcohol.

Surprised, she gasped when he grabbed her arm roughly.

"I can't believe you said no," he said, whispering in her face. The stench of booze rolled over her as she tried to struggle free. "I came all the way to this damn country to make you my wife, and you said no."

Mark usually held his liquor well, but once she saw him have too many drinks. The guy that picked a fight with him was in the hospital for a week. She tried to twist free, but his grip tightened. She looked frantically around, but the compound was empty this time of night.

"Mark, why don't you get some sleep, and we'll talk this over in the morning," she said, trying to sound calm. "This place can get to anybody, and you just need some rest."

She tried to lead Mark in the direction of the VIP tent, but he had other ideas. He jerked her roughly and quickened his pace.

"Oh, I plan on going to bed, just not alone."

Her blood ran cold at his suggestion.

"I'll scream," she threatened as they neared the tent. If she could talk him out of his rant, no one would know anything. She tried to wriggle her arm free, but he held fast.

"Oh, and who will come save you? That corporal I saw you gettin' cozy with earlier?"

Mark stumbled, and Jessie saw her chance. She tripped him. He loosened his grip, and they both fell to the ground. She wriggled free.

But, before she could get out of his reach, Mark grabbed her foot, and she fell.

Now, she started screaming.

*********************************

"That's Jessie!" Radar rushed out the door of the Swamp with B.J., Charles and Hawkeye on his heels.

*********************************

Mark yanked Jessie from the ground, grabbing a handful of her hair. "Shut up!" he hissed in her face. He loosened his grip, backhanding her across the face.


	17. Chapter 17

Radar saw it all in slow motion. Mark's hand connected with Jessie's cheek, and she hit the ground. She looked up at Mark, terror mixed with anger as Mark glared back.

Radar didn't know what came over him. He ran to Mark, grabbing him by his arm and spinning him around.

In his drunken stupor, Mark didn't quite know what to make of this new threat. Before he could react, Radar slugged him.

Mark hit the ground, out cold.

Radar stood there, stunned, shaking his right hand against the pain. _I actually knocked him out! Wow!_

Hawkeye leaned over Mark's prostrate form. "He'll live. Unfortunately."

Margaret knelt on the ground next to Jessie. Jessie flinched as Margaret touched a spot on her cheek that was already beginning to discolor.

"Animal," Margaret mumbled as she helped Jessie onto her feet.

Jessie was livid. As soon as Margaret helped her up, she stalked to Mark and kicked him hard in the side. He was so drunk he didn't even flinch.

"Now, let him wonder where _that_ bruise came from."

Radar was immediately by Jessie's side. "Are you OK?" he asked, grabbing her by the shoulders and hugging her tight. "I saw him hit you, and I-I really don't know what happened." He released Jessie, then brushed at the bruise on her cheek. Jessie flinched again.

"I'll be OK," she said, giving him a wobbly smile.

******************************************

"Ow!" Jessie flinched away from Charles and his antiseptic.

Charles stepped back, more than a little frustrated. "Look Lieutenant. Jessamyn. You act like this is major surgery. It's just a little cut."

"But, it hurts! And, isn't this a nurse's duty anyway?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "It seems the entire nursing staff is falling all over themselves to treat Romeo out there. Just be still. Col. Potter won't have you getting an infection, no matter how insignificant the bruise. Just shut your eyes, and it'll be over soon." He smiled wickedly at her. "I'll even give you a lollipop if you're good."

Jessie pursed her lips, but obediently shut her eyes. She held her breath until the alcohol had dried.

Charles stepped back. "There, all done. You're going to have one impressive black eye, though." A dark look briefly passed over his face.

Jessie picked up a mirror and looked at her shiner. It was already beginning to turn black and blue. "That idiot!"

"You really do have an interesting taste in men, Jessamyn. Where on earth did you ever find that imbecile?"

She sat the mirror down and hopped from the table. "I swear he was never violent towards me before. My brother would have been on him so fast, he wouldn't have known what hit him."

"Anyone who willingly hits a woman deserves to be throttled. If O'Reilly hadn't reached him first, I'd have . . ." He trailed of, pretending to be interested in the bottles on the tray.

"What would you have done?"

Charles cleared his throat. "I would have done just what any other man in camp would have done. Punched him in the nose."

Jessie squeezed his arm. "Thanks, Charles. But, I think Radar got there first."

As if on cue, Radar poked his head through the door. "You ready for Mark, Major? You alright, Jess?"

"Fine, just don't let me near him. I might kick him again." With a wave, she was gone.

"I just might kick him myself," Charles muttered as they brought a prostrate Mark into the prep-room, nose bloody.

*********************************************************

"You mean you don't want to press charges?" Col. Potter sputtered, shocked. Jessie, her arms crossed in disgust, was sitting across from him. Mark, quite hung over and sporting an impressive black eye, was sitting next to her, his head in his hands. Radar was watching intently from the file cabinets across the room.

Jessie stubbornly shook her head. "No sir, I don't."

"Do you mind me asking why? The man hit you and had every intention of raping you, from what I can tell."

Jessie eyed Mark disgustingly. "Colonel, all I want this to be is over. I'm not hurt, but if he had actually done anything else, I'd be screaming from here to San Francisco. But, since he didn't, I'd rather not have my name plastered all over every news agency in the states." _Let alone the gossip pool in half of Texas_. She gave Mark a dirty look.

Col. Potter stood up. "Alright then, it's settled. Mr. Stewart, you are to leave this camp." Mark stood up wearily. "The next time you come near us, you better be bleeding from an impressive wound, or you won't get in."

Mark nodded. He looked at Jessie, sitting stoically next to him. She returned his gaze. The bruise on her cheek had been artfully covered with make-up, and it didn't look half as bad as his eye. Mark patted her fondly on the shoulder.

"You better hold on to that one," he said, motioning towards Radar. "He may be little, but he sure can hit," Mark said, tipping his hat at her. He threw a salute to Radar, who scowled, before leaving, the double doors swinging in his wake.

Col. Potter leaned back in his chair. "Well, Radar, it looks like we may need to start a boxing team."

Jessie covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a giggle. "Did you see his eye? And I bet his hangover didn't help matters any."

Radar sat in the empty chair next to Jessie. "To tell you the truth, if he wasn't drunk, he probably would have jumped up after I hit him and creamed me."

Jessie rolled her eyes at him, but grinned. She picked up his bruised right hand and inspected it.

Col. Potter laughed. "You two get out of here!"

Jessie and Radar jumped up. "Will there be anything else, sir?" Radar asked.

"Bring you any lunch?" Jessie added, standing in the doorway.

"Go on ahead. I'm not ready to be tortured just yet," the Colonel said. "That'll be all, Corporal."

************************************************

The mess tent was full when the walked through the door. They got their food and squeezed in at a table with Charles, Hawkeye, Margaret and Father Mulcahy.

Margaret stared hard at Jessie. "I saw that creep get in a jeep and leave. You should have thrown the book at him."

Jessie shrugged. "Wasn't worth it. Didn't seem fair to kick a man when he was down. No . . . wait, I did that already, didn't I?" Everyone at the table laughed, except Margaret and Radar.

"I'd have thrown him under a jeep," she muttered.

Radar leaned over. "Me too," he whispered.

Charles pointed at her with his fork. "I'm glad he's gone. That continuous country music was giving me a headache."

"What, Charles, you don't like country music?" Hawkeye asked, poking his spoon at something resembling Jello.

"It sounds a lot like a bunch of cats in a bag screaming," Charles grimaced.

Jessie laughed. "You're such a snob."

"Just a better taste in music," Charles added regally. "With your voice, you ought to use it for better genres of music, like classical for instance. But, I bet you've never even heard an opera."

Jessie finished chewing and studied Charles. "You don't think I can do it, do you?"

"Oh, I think you could," Father Mulcahy said. "I've heard you sing hymns, and you do have a beautiful voice."

"Thanks, Father," Jessie said. "But, Charles here has insulted me." She coolly eyed Charles, but her eyes sparkled.

Charles laughed, clearly amused. "It takes years and years of practice to sing some of the grand ones. There's no way you could just belt one out right here."

"Wanna bet?"

"Bet? Sure!" Charles said. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out several bills. "This will be the easiest $50 I've ever made."

Jessie matched his bet. By then, they had gathered the attention of several others in the room.

*******************************************

Radar watched Jessie closely, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Umm, Major? I don't think you know that Jessie has . . ."

Charles just waved his hand at Radar.

Hawkeye leaned in closer to the corporal. "She can, can't she?" Radar just nodded. Hawkeye slapped his hands together. "This is gonna be good!"

***********************************************

Jessie stood up in the middle of the tent. "What shall I sing? Remember, I've never even been to an opera, so go easy on me."

Charles studied Jessie for a moment. "How about the aria from 'Ascanio in Alba'?" He chuckled merrily. "You even heard of it?"

Jessie smirked back at him. She took a sip of water, then a deep breath and began the Mozart aria.

The tent fell silent. The beautiful notes about a lover lost flowed through the room. There wasn't a dry eye when the last haunting words faded away.

Margaret stood up and led the applause. "That was just gorgeous! I didn't know the words, but I could feel the emotion!"

Hawkeye laughed uproariously at Charles's expression. "You've been had!" He gripped his sides. "Oh, B.J. will be upset that he missed this!"

Jessie ambled across the room to a shocked Charles. She slapped her hand on top of the pot and leaned down in front of him until she was inches from his face.

"I've been taking classical singing lessons since I was seven," she whispered. "You don't think Daddy would pay for country lessons, did you?" She handed the bills to Father Mulcahy as she sauntered out the door.

"I tried to tell you, sir," Radar said, rather enjoying his discomfort.

Charles ran a hand over his face. "Good Lord, I haven't heard anything like that since Boston. Her voice is magnificent. She should be onstage."

Radar shrugged and resumed eating. "Her father and voice teacher tried to get her to tour Europe, but she wouldn't do it. Said it was presumptuous."

Hawkeye clapped Charles on the back. "You know all about being presumptuous, don't you, Chuckles?"

Charles didn't reply. He just stared at the door Jessie had left swinging.

***********************************

Yes, it's a real aria by Mozart. Good stuff. Just because I'm from the south, doesn't mean I don't know my classical music! Oh yeah, and I don't own it.


	18. Chapter 18

"All personnel! Incoming wounded!"

Jessie swore as long as she lived that she would never grow accustomed to such a rude awakening as that damn loudspeaker in the middle of the night. Throwing on a robe over her shirt and shorts, she raced out the door, almost forgetting to put on her boots. The idea of going barefoot in OR, with all the blood squishing underfoot, almost made her sick, so she raced back inside to put them on, not even bothering to lace them.

The nurses were now in charge of triage, freeing up the doctors for even more surgery. Trying to calm the wounded while assessing their situation was more difficult than it looked. Of the ones who weren't passed out, some could be extremely hostile, even violent at times, but most were glad to be getting some relief from their pain. With so many casualties to attend to and so few nurses, Jessie often found herself assessing the damage and not paying attention to men themselves, only jotting down enough information to clear each body out of the compound and get them into pre-op as fast as possible.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"JC? Is that you?" His voice was so faint, it was almost indistinguishable.

Jessie almost dropped her clipboard. Not too many people called her JC . . .

"Holy cow! Danny!" She grasped her brother's childhood friend's hand, which was smeared with his own blood. "Danny! How in . . .? What in the world . . ."

"I got drafted," he whispered simply, his brown eyes briefly lighting up. "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes."

Jessie motioned an orderly over with some pain medication and administered it herself. Briefly, she glanced under the hasty dressing of his wounds by the staff at the aid station, cringing inwardly at the deep belly wounds. Definitely close range. "You're going to be just fine, Danny Boy. You'll be cruising the town again in no time flat."

He tried to chuckle, but a moan escaped his lips.

"Lieutenant Callahan! Over here! On the double!" Maj. Houlihan yelled from nearby.

Jessie patted his shoulder, longing to stay with him. Thoughts of all the fun, innocent times they had growing up flew through her mind. "I gotta go, Danny. But, I'll be right here if you need anything."

" 'Kay." The pain meds seemed to be taking affect. Reluctantly, Jessie trotted off.

*****************************************

She kept up with Danny in pre-op, making sure he was comfortable. However, she was assigned to Col. Potter's table and once surgery began and lost all track of him. Until she heard Charles barking orders from across the room.

"There's too much blood here. Suction."

"I've lost a pulse, Doctor."

"Rib spreader."

Jessie looked up from Col. Potter's bowel resection. A heart massage always brought any other activity in the room to a screeching halt.

"Do you think that's really necessary, Major?" Colonel Potter eyed the other surgeon from across the room.

"Colonel, with all due respect, I don't think he really cares if it's necessary." He motioned towards Danny's still form.

Jessie froze in the middle of handing Col. Potter an instrument.

"Damn it, Lieutenant, I don't have all day!" Col. Potter blustered as she was distracted.

"Yes, Lieutenant! Get your butt in gear!" Margaret yelled at her.

Bigelow saw Jessie in pre-op with Danny and heard her half-heartedly joking with him. She put two and two together and took the instrument from Jessie's hand.

A little dazed, Jessie slowly made her way across the room to where Charles was diligently working on the broken body of her childhood friend, leaving a confused Colonel Potter behind. She motioned for the nurse operating the anesthesia to step away and took over her job, her whole body numb.

"Lieutenant! What is the matter with you? We don't have time for . . ." Margaret began.

Kelleye trotted up to her. "Major. He's from back home."

Margaret's harsh gaze softened briefly, and she reassigned the befuddled nurse whose job had been taken over to Col. Potter's table, ceasing berating Jessie.

Charles briefly glanced up at her as he worked. "You know him?"

All Jessie could do was nod, not trusting her voice.

_I told him he would be okay!_

The minutes dragged on. They thought the heart massage had worked based on the triumphant note in Charles's voice. Jessie almost breathed a sigh of relief until his pressure plummeted once more.

"I've lost his pulse!" Jessie cried out.

Charles immediately tried again.

After several long, agonizing minutes of focusing on Charles and Margaret working diligently, blood coating the fronts of their gowns, with no results, Jessie focused on her friend's face. He looked so . . . so at peace. So at odds with the yelling and cursing and stench of the OR.

"Stop! Just stop!" Jessie cried, removing the oxygen mask from Danny's face.

Charles didn't reply, her plea not registering as he worked. "Adrenaline."

Margaret reached out to hand Charles the needle, but Jessie leaned over and took it from her instead. "No. No more. Let him rest. Please."

"But . . ." Charles looked up at her, preparing to lash out. But, she wasn't even looking at him. All she was doing was stroking the cheek of her dead friend.

"Listen to her, Major. Let him be." Col. Potter's calm demeanor could reach anyone during a time of crisis.

Breathing hard with exertion, Charles stepped back.

There was complete silence in the OR for a few moments. Jessie wiped her eyes and stood up. "Orderly, I need fresh gloves. And we need a new body in here. Step on it!"

She couldn't think about it now. She wouldn't think about it now. Maybe later, when this . . . this bloodbath was finished, she would wail, scream and lash out at whoever allowed such a horrid death for such a sweet boy. But not now. She would go crazy if she allowed it to get to her. So, she returned to Col. Potter's table and went back to work.

Charles watched her back quizzically as Danny's lifeless body was taken away.

*************************************

Jessie flipped the switch, illuminating the now empty OR. It had been a good session. Everyone that arrived at the 4077th had lived.

Except one.

Graves' services were on their way to pick him up, so the orderlies had put him in the OR, out of sight of the living.

Didn't want to upset anybody.

Mercifully, someone had covered him with a sheet. Jessie didn't want to pull it back and look at his lifeless face that had once been so easy to laugh and smile. Wearily, she pulled herself up onto the gurney next to him, her feet dangling off the floor. Somehow, she had made it through surgery by focusing on each new wound that was wheeled in front of her. Each one she helped save would be spared Danny's fate.

But at the end of the day, the knowledge of all the living that were there because of her didn't help because her childhood friend was gone, killed by a faceless enemy and covered by a stained sheet.

She brushed off their mumbled words of comfort, knowing if she gave into them, she'd turn into a crying, screaming ball of uselessness. They all meant well, they really did. And, it wasn't healthy to hold it all in. But, it was all she had.

She was glad Radar was in Seoul for the weekend. He would know just what to say to her, to help her grieve and the tears to come. She didn't want that. Not now. She wanted to revel in the pain and the hatred, cling to it. At least she could _feel_ it.

She heard a noise behind her, the sound of the door hesitantly opening, realized he was pausing just inside the doorway, debating on what to do.

_So careful. So calculating. Never making a decision without thinking at length._

He made up his mind and strolled purposefully into the room, stopping next to her, his hands in his pockets.

She wouldn't look at him, just continued staring at the outline of her friend underneath the sheet.

"I'm sorry," he said, peering at her.

Jessie snorted. "You know, I was just thinking how much I appreciated you not offering any . . . any useless words of comfort. So much for that."

He sighed. "I don't think I could have done anything more . . ."

Jessie glanced at him, her eyes red with unshed tears. "This isn't about you, Winchester."

Charles was slightly taken aback. "I didn't mean for it to appear as such."

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to take her frustrations out on him. "I know. It's just . . ." She felt the tears come again. "You know, he was always afraid of the dark." She used the cuff of her shirt to wipe her eyes.

Charles wasn't sure what to say. His sole purpose for finding her was to rid himself of the feelings of guilt of her friend dying under his care. Instead, he found himself drawn to her, wanting to make sure she could cope under the pressure. But, he didn't want her to speak of her friend, to give this dead man a face and a character and a life all his own by hearing about him. It made it seem like the man could rise from the gurney, push back the sheet and get on with his life.

It was the stuff nightmares were made of.

But, he listened anyway.

She was all alone, since O'Reilly wasn't due back until morning. Plus, he could relate to the dead man in a way, harboring a few of his own fears deep inside.

Jessie took a ragged breath and continued. "He used to stay over at our house with Johnny all the time. There was a passel of those boys, and you always saw them together. When all of them would fall asleep in Johnny's room, Danny used to sneak into mine and Andrea's room. We always left a light on for him and slept in the same bed, so when he got there, he would have somewhere to sleep. At dawn, he always snuck back into Johnny's room, and no one would know."

"And now . . ." Jessie felt a sob rise in her throat. But, she fought it. "And now, they're going to bury him in the cold ground. In the dark. With no light. All alone." She knew her thoughts were irrational and wanted to weep bitterly for her friend and for wars that made boys into men and men into corpses long before their time.

But, she didn't.

Charles didn't say a word. Just sat with her throughout the night. It was all he knew to do.

***********************************************

The compound was dark, the silent shadows of the guards drifting along nearby. Radar thanked the driver and watched as he sped along into the darkness away from camp. He was surprised to see a light on inside his office. Grabbing his duffle, he shuffled along, hoping it wasn't anything to keep him up any longer than necessary. He had planned on a few hours of sleep before morning, but it wasn't to be, especially after he saw the wreck in his office.

"That Klinger . . ." he mumbled under his breath, tossing his bag on his cot. More papers stacked on the blanket rustled and fell to the floor.

Radar honestly didn't know where to begin.

The door from post-op opened.

"Hi, Colonel," he muttered without turning around as he studied a stack of files pulled from God knows where.

"How was Seoul?"

Radar shrugged. "Better than here."

"Klinger put a hurtin' on your office."

"Did he even get anything done? Besides make a mess," Radar scowled.

"Well, he did figure out how to answer the phone. That's about it."

Radar finally turned to face the Colonel. "Sir, can't sleep?" He motioned towards the Colonel's attire – bathrobe and combat boots.

Colonel Potter sighed. "It's been rough the last couple of days. Almost consistent casualties."

Radar noticed the inflection in Colonel Potter's voice. "Is something . . . wrong?"

He handed Radar a file he was holding. "Only one didn't make it."

Radar looked questioningly at the colonel before opening the file, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Until he got to the address. "What happened?" He shut the file and handed it back.

"He came in with fairly extensive wounds. Winchester tried to save him, but couldn't."

Radar couldn't imagine watching someone you knew die in such a horrid manner.

"She's closed all us out, Radar. She covers her shifts, but she won't interact with anybody! She won't even talk to any of the nurses, and you know how close they all are. I even mentioned briefly calling you, and she flew into such a rage, that I didn't dare."

Radar understood. It was how she dealt with pain, pushing it away.

"Go see her." Colonel Potter waved his arm around the office. "All this can wait until morning."

"You don't think she's asleep?"

"Son, she spent the first night you were gone sitting up with his body. Wake her up. Shake her until her teeth rattle. Do whatever you have to. Just make her talk about it."

"Yes, sir." Just the idea of her being alone with her memories made him shudder. With one last glare at the mess, he walked into the compound, loosening his tie on his dress uniform as he went.

*************************************

There was a light on in her tent, but he knocked anyway.

"Jess? You awake?"

There was no answer.

Hesitantly, he opened the door, wincing as it creaked on its hinges.

She had fallen asleep on her stomach, her arms curled up underneath her, an unfinished letter hanging precariously on the edge of the cot. She looked fragile in the dim light from her lamp by her bed, so out of place in this hell hole.

Too bad he couldn't protect her from this hell hole.

She didn't stir when he reached down to pick up the letter, moving the pen to the night stand.

_Dear Mr. Coleman & Mrs. Annie,_

_Danny was not alone. I was with him when he died . . ._

Radar couldn't read the rest of it. It was just too personal. Plus, he wanted to hear it from her.

The cot groaned with the extra weight as he sat carefully on the edge, reaching out and moving her hair from her face. In sleep, she looked peaceful, but he knew she had been crying as she wrote the letter, could feel it with every fiber of his being. He wanted – oh, how he wanted! – to shelter her from the unspeakable acts they witnessed daily. But, there was nothing he could do. Tears

Her eyes fluttered open. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." He gave her a half-hearted smile.

She stayed curled up. "How was Seoul?"

"It would have been more fun if you were there." He tried to be light-hearted.

That comment earned him a small smile, at least until her eyes settled on the unfinished letter in his hand. The light in her eyes vanished, replaced with a haunted look he had never seen before. She sat up, taking the letter from him, folding it carefully before placing it gently on her nightstand.

She pulled her knees to her chest, looking so vulnerable, it made him ache. "I'm not crazy."

"I didn't think you were."

It was almost as if what he said didn't even register. "Just because I wouldn't talk to them, they thought I was losing my marbles." She swallowed hard, trying hard to compose herself before she continued. "I _wanted_ to feel the hate and the anger and the . . . the sheer uselessness of it all! They said crying was better, helped to let it all out, or some hogwash like that." The tears started, and she didn't stop them. "Well, let me tell you something. It doesn't matter how much I cry. He's still dead! Along with . . ." she hiccupped. "Along with hundreds of others. I just . . . I just . . ."

She knew she shouldn't, but she finally met his gaze. The understanding and love she saw in his eyes was the final shove, knocking down the temporary wall she built up against everyone else.

He saw it coming and pulled her against his chest, her sobs shaking them both. He wanted to say something to chase away her demons, but his mind was a blank. So, all he could do was hold her tightly as she wept.

His jacket smelt like cigarette smoke and gasoline fumes from the jeep, but Jessie didn't care. As long as he was here.

Her great, gulping sobs eventually abated, only the occasional shuddering sniffle breaking the silence. But, still he held her as if he were trying to take her pain and make it his own.

Her anger had vanished, in its place a dull ache, almost like a part of her – an innocent part – had died, an emotional casualty of war. As she clung to him, listening to his even breathing , she wondered how many others were walking around daily in Korea, feeling the same way she did.

"More than you realize."

"Huh?" she asked, still holding onto him like he was her only link to the world.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I think a lot of people walk around here feeling numb. How else are we going to deal with it, after all."

She sniffed, not at all ruffled by his ability to peer into her thoughts. "If they gave out Purple Hearts for that, we'd all have one."

"Yeah, I guess so."

She wiped her face one last time with her blanket and sat back. Reluctantly, he let her go. They sat looking at each other for a moment.

"You know, you've always managed to be there when I need you. I don't know what this place would be like without you."

Radar blushed and held her gaze. "You're tougher than you think, you know."

"You sure couldn't tell by all the tears I've shed here," she said cryptically. "I think I must have been saving them up all those years just for this occasion." She held up her arms in a weightlifters stance. "Or, maybe you're right. Maybe I am tough."

He chuckled at her silliness, relieved to see she was trying, despite the haunted look on her tear-stained face.


	19. Chapter 19

_Dear Johnny,_

_I can't believe you're going home! Give everyone a big kiss and hug for me!_

_Everything is the same old thing around here. We just finished with 16 hours of surgery, and I'm so tired I could drop. My mind seems numb, so if a ramble a bit, you'll understand. And it seems to have rained non-stop here for a week. If I see Noah's Ark floating by, I wouldn't be too surprised! _

_I don't suppose you've heard about the notorious Mark coming to my neck of the woods, have you? Well, he sauntered into camp and had the nerve to propose to me! And in front of everyone, too! Where he got the idea that I would even consider marrying him again is beyond me. After I told him N-O, he apparently was not too happy with the idea of being rejected. And he showed me his displeasure in a rather ungentlemanly-like manner. Let's just say he was given a black eye you would be proud of by Radar and ran out on a rail by the CO. You'd have loved it! Just like a Saturday night back at home!_

_Mark and I actually did get to sing together again before he went and proposed like an idiot. You know, I actually missed it. As a result, I have a new job around here. I'm the unofficial entertainment for the wounded in post-op. I have been told that all the soldiers want to be taken to the 4077__th__, so they can get well while listening to "the most angelic voice away from the U.S." Of course, I'm just quoting what I heard because I know you think I sound like a frog! So, in addition to my other duties, I sing to the wounded. Usually, I take requests, mostly hymns and songs that remind the boys of home. I've even tried some of my own stuff on them, and they seem to like it. _

_My first birthday away from home. I keep thinking about the parties we would have when we were growing up. Remember when you turned 16, and we had this gigantic tent set up on the south lawn with a band and food and the whole nine yards? I remember I was so excited because it was the first real grown up party I was allowed to attend. I remember your best friend, Buddy, danced with me, and I thought I was in love. Ha! Isn't he a used car salesman now, or something like that? Oh, and the cakes Mattie used to make for us! Homemade frosting and the chocolate filling were divine! I don't think my stomach could handle such rich foods anymore after eating the horrible stuff here!_

_Well, now I've gone and made myself homesick again! Tell everyone I love them and that I hope to see them soon!_

_-Jess_

By now, her brother knew of Danny's death. She wasn't strong enough to tell him the details. Not yet, at least.

Sighing as the sound of helicopter blades whumped through the air once again, she pulled on her soggy raincoat and boots and stumbled into the drizzle that had become a non-stop annoyance.

****************************************

"So, you've noticed, too, that she's been sort of down in the dumps?" Radar asked the group crowded into Col. Potter's office.

"Who wouldn't be with all this rain and wounded and blood?" Hawkeye said, waving his empty hand in the air. The other held a bottle of scotch from Col. Potter's stash that he had helped himself to.

Radar didn't mention it, but he knew it was mostly because of Danny's death. And he would do anything to make her happy again!

"Well, it's her first birthday away from home, and I think it's bothering her more than she'll admit. My first one here bothered me, too," B.J. said, lounging against the Colonel's desk.

"I've even noticed that she never sings anymore. She always went around humming and singing to herself, and the only time I hear her now is in post-op," Father Mulcahy added.

Col. Potter flopped his muddy boots on his desk. "Why don't we just throw the lady a birthday party? You know, with the whole shebang-cake, presents, balloons. Might make her feel a little better."

Radar brightened at the idea, then his face fell. "That's a good idea, sir, but her birthday's tomorrow, and there is more wounded expected in the next few hours - a lot more wounded. I bet we work until long past her birthday."

"Well, why don't we just have a mini party in here?" Col. Potter said. "Snatch her away from Margaret for a few minutes, bring her in here, and we'll surprise her." He reached behind a cabinet and pulled out a canvas-covered package. "I have a little surprise for her myself."

"What's that?" Hawkeye asked, peering at the flat square canvas. He looked questioningly at Radar, who shrugged.

"Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if I showed it to you, now would it?"

"I think I could scare up some decorations," the Father said thoughtfully. "Meet back here in a couple of hours?"

"Is that OK with you, Radar?" the Colonel asked. "You have her anything yet?"

"Actually, I do," the Corporal said, blushing a bit. "I bought her something last time I was in Seoul."

Hawkeye smiled lewdly. "Oh, I hope it's something we can _all_ appreciate."

Radar blushed even deeper and stuck out his chin. "It's nothing like that, but even if it was, it wouldn't be any of _your_ business!"

B.J. threw a wad of paper at Hawkeye. "Yeah, you degenerate."

Hawkeye ducked as the paper whizzed by. "Well, can't a guy dream?"

**********************************

"Ma'am, you're wanted in Col. Potter's office right away," Klinger said. Tonight, he was dressed in a heavy wool skirt and flowered blouse with a fur coat.

"Really, Klinger, a fur with a wool skirt. You of all people should know better than that," Jessie said, thumbing through the paperwork she had to complete. She sighed, resigning herself to another night of drudgery. How she longed for sunshine. And no wounded!

"Well, I was in a hurry," Klinger said, holding the door open for Jessie.

"What does the Colonel want?" Jessie said, pushing errant strands of hair out of her face. _When was the last time she even washed her hair?_ _At least everyone else around here was in the same shape she was – tired, dirty, depressed._ _She didn't even want to think about her birthday tomorrow. Or was it already today?_ Jessie shook her head in annoyance and realized she wasn't paying any attention to Klinger.

"Sorry, Klinger, what did you say?" she said, turning to look at Klinger as she walked into the Colonel's office.

"Surprise!"

Jessie turned around so fast and jumped backwards that she almost fell into Klinger.

"Wow!" was all she could manage to croak. The normally drab office was streaming with what looked suspiciously like toilet paper. It hung from anything that was stationary. A large "Happy Birthday" sign was taped in front of Col. Potter's desk. Three red balloons were tied to the back of Col. Potter's chair. Jessie felt her eyes begin to tear. "Oh, you guys shouldn't have went through all this trouble."

"Nonsense!" Kelleye said, grabbing one of Jessie's elbows. She and Bigelow pulled Jessie inside the office to sit in the Colonel's chair.

After she was unceremoniously seated, she pulled down the balloons and thumped one of them. "Who in the world managed to get these?"

"The Lord does work in mysterious ways, you know." Father Mulcahy smiled. "Plus, they're left over from Christmas."

Hawkeye reached out and plunked his Stetson on her head. "In lieu of a crown for the birthday queen, we present you with this lovely piece of Western wear." Radar, who had stationed himself behind Jessie's chair, straightened the hat, then put his hand on her shoulder. Jessie patted it fondly.

"Looks better on you than it does on me," Hawkeye said, winking at her.

"Y'all really shouldn't have . . ." she started before the doors flew open and B.J. with his armful of cake marched through the door. The crowd launched into "Happy Birthday," and Jessie applauded when they finished. She leaned over and blew out the lone candle in, sticking her finger in the icing.

"Chocolate icing!" she said, rolling her eyes skyward at the taste. "How did you manage to get it?"

"Well, I got it sent from home awhile back. I've been holding onto it for your birthday because I knew you liked it. First birthdays away from home are always hard," Radar said from behind her. She turned around in the chair and smiled up at him.

He resisted the urge to kiss her right there in front of everybody.

"The cake isn't the only present," Col. Potter said from the corner of his desk. "Hey, Klinger! Bring them in!"

Klinger came in with several packages in his arms and regally placed them in front of a speechless Jessie.

She hesitantly reached for the first one. It was wrapped in pink tissue paper.

"That's from Charles," the Colonel said.

Jessie didn't even realize Charles was there. She looked around the crowded room of jabbering people until she found him leaning on the file cabinets in the corner. She threw him a little wave, and he nodded.

Jessie tore into the package. Radar chuckled over her shoulder. "The Complete Opera Handbook," he read from the cover.

Jessie opened up the cover and found a note on the inside page. _My dearest J, Pick one. I thoroughly hope to hear you enchanting audiences one day. – Charles._

Jessie smiled. "Thanks, Charles, glad you have such faith in me."

"With your voice, you only need faith in yourself."

"Open mine and Beej's next!" Hawkeye said, rifling through the packages until he found the right one. It was rather large and wrapped in newspaper.

Jessie took it and ripped into it, revealing a box that said "Stetson" on the side. Jessie's mouth fell open as she opened the box.

"Oh, wow!" she said, taking off Hawkeye's hat and putting on her gift. "I love it!" Jessie now was the proud owner of a Stetson hat, dark felt with a wide brim. "Now, how did you get this?"

"Well, we just figured any woman that can sing country like you deserves to have a hat that is just as western," B.J. said, shrugged. "Plus, my father-in-law owns a department store."

"Now, when you're famous one day, you better be wearing that hat," Hawkeye said, shaking his finger at her.

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Famous? Ha! I'm more likely to be famous from singing Charles's opera than from singing country music."

"Us next!" Kelleye said, jumping up and giving Jessie a small box.

"I wonder what it could be," Jessie said, opening the box. Inside was a picture of all the nurses – including Margaret – that was taken about a month ago at some silly party. Jessie hugged it to her chest.

Now, she was down to two. "Which one next?" she asked, trying to choose between the two.

"Open Radar's," Hawkeye said, shoveling cake into his mouth. "I'm convinced he's got something in there that we will _all_ enjoy!"

Radar blushed, and Jessie gave Hawkeye a mean look.

"You wish," she said, and Hawkeye laughed. She reached for the package and tore it open. Her eyes lit up as she hugged the stuffed pink horse to her chest.

Hawkeye looked disappointed. "Explain," he said, between mouthfuls of cake.

"Don't eat all my cake," she said, burying her face in the pink mane. "I have a stuffed pink horse at home named Reginald that I've had since I was three or four. He's gone everyone with me my entire life until here. I – um - didn't bring him because I didn't want something to happen to him." Jessie held her new stuffed animal at arm's length. She jumped up and hugged Radar.

"Thanks, Walter," she said, softly in his ear. Radar squeezed her tightly.

"Now, it's my turn," the Colonel said. He handed her the final package. "I think you'll like this one best."

"Oh, I don't know how you could top all these gifts," Jessie said, ripping through the canvas. But, she gasped when she saw it.

She remembered the day perfectly. Stacey, who was forever knitting everyone sweaters, socks and scarves had just received several large skeins of yarn from home. She had sat Jessie and Radar down with it to roll into balls. Since the day was comfortable, they took it outside, enjoying the day as they worked.

Col. Potter's painting had captured the moment perfectly. Jessie was sitting cross-legged on the ground, intently rolling the yarn into balls. She had wrapped the yarn in Radar's outstretched hands to keep it from getting tangled. He was smiling at her as he watched her work.

Jessie blinked back tears. "Colonel Potter, I-I don't know what to say," she sniffed. Everyone oohed and aahed over the canvas as it was passed around.

Jessie rose from his chair and hugged the older man tight. "Thank you," she whispered to him. She turned and faced the crowd. "Thank you all."

"Speech! Speech!" Hawkeye gestured, and the room applauded. Jessie laughed as she wiped the tears out of her eyes. She knew they didn't have long until the next barrage of wounded.

"All of you don't know what this means to me. To have found friends like you in such an – unappealing place just makes it even more special." She hugged her stuffed animal she had decided to name Ronnie to her chest. "Next time I start getting down in the dumps, I'll just remember that I have all of you!" The crowd cheered, which almost drowned out the sound of choppers.

B.J. passed the painting back to Jessie, who clutched it to her chest next to the stuffed animal. He hugged her around her gifts, then followed everyone out of the door to another grueling O.R. session.

***************************************

Many hours later, Jessie lugged her gifts back to her tent. She let the red balloons drift near the ceiling in the tent and hung Col. Potter's painting on a nail over her bed Flopping on her cot, she clutched her new stuffed animal to her chest and sighed. _What a birthday, _she thought, watching the balloons dance around in the drafty tent. She eyed an unfinished letter next to her bed, but decided she was too tired to complete it. All she wanted to do right now was sit.

A knock on her door interrupted her revelry. "Come in," she said wearily, still sitting on her cot. She hoped it wasn't someone she was supposed to salute.

Radar stuck his head on the door. "Happy birthday!" he said happily.

Jessie moved the pink stuffed animal to her other arm and looked at her watch. "Well, I suppose it is still my birthday for another 10 minutes or so."

Radar sat down beside her on the bed. "Sorry we couldn't give you a better party," he said, a little forlornly. "We've given some really swell ones in the past, but with all the wounded and all, we didn't have time for it."

"Oh, no, don't apologize," Jessie said, waving her hand in the air. "It was wonderful." She smiled at him. "All of you were really sweet to throw me one."

"It's was the Colonel's idea. Wasn't that painting great?"

Jessie brightened. "Helped me to not be so homesick," she said, hugging Ronnie to her chest.

Radar cleared his throat. "I-uh-actually have something else for you, too. I – um – didn't want to give it to you around the others. You know how they are." As he talked, he pulled an oblong box out of his coat pocket.

Jessie's eyes widened. He held the small box out to her, and she gingerly took it. Carefully, she opened it.

"Oh!" she gasped, staring at the necklace inside. He smiled shyly at her. "It's beautiful!" She fingered the small heart-shaped pearl and delicate gold chain. Slowly, she took it out of the box and fastened it behind her neck.

"I thought of you when I saw it," he said, reaching out and touching the chain around her neck. "The pearl isn't cut. It came out heart-shaped when it was harvested."

Jessie threw her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll never take it off!" she said. Suddenly, she jumped back. "When your birthday comes around, I don't know how I'm going to top all of this!"

Radar chuckled and patted her on the leg. "As long as you're here, that's all I could ever want."

"Corporal O'Reilly, report to Col. Potter's office at once!" the PA system announced.

Radar sighed. "Well, looks like the Colonel doesn't plan to get much sleep tonight," he grumbled, standing up. Jessie rose from the cot and followed him to the door. She leaned on the doorjamb as he stood on the doorway.

"Thanks again for the necklace," she said, fingering the pearl. "I doubt I'll ever forget this birthday for awhile."

He leaned over and kissed her. "Happy birthday, Jess," he whispered. "Now get some sleep."

Jessie mock saluted him, and he laughed as he left her tent.


	20. Chapter 20

This one might sound familiar: "Dr. Winchester & Mr. Hyde"

Oh, and I still own none of it. Only Jessie.

*********************************************

Jessie sauntered around the tent, knowing Radar was with his animals. She leaned on a nearby crate as she watched him tend to one in particular.

"How's Daisy?"

"Better," Radar mumbled, putting the mouse back in her cage. "Aren't you on duty?"

"Major Houilhan wanted me to see you about reordering some supplies. Immediately." She shrugged in exasperation.

Radar blew out a breath, double checking the door on the cage to make sure it was latched. "Yeah. Sure. I'll be right there."

Jessie took her time walking to his office. Earlier in the week, the Marines had pitted their mouse Sluggo against Radar's mouse Daisy in a maze race. Once again, boredom made them do strange things. Daisy won, but was acting extremely strange afterwards. Last night, Radar had come to her tent as mad as she had ever seen him, telling her that Charles had drugged Daisy, so she would win. Jessie had been almost as livid, but the more she thought about it, the more something wasn't right.

She idly rifled through some paperwork stacked on Radar's desk. _Come to think of it, Charles has been acting differently, too . . ._

Radar slammed through the door, making her jump.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"No, I was just thinking, that's all."

"About?"

Jessie chewed on her bottom lip, debating. "Do you think Major Winchester has been acting a little strange, lately?"

Radar banged a file cabinet drawer shut. "Anyone's strange who would drug a poor, defenseless animal!"

Jessie nodded once in agreement, handing him the reorder paperwork.

"And all for money, too! Geez!" He absently took the forms from her, rifling through them.

Jessie leaned on his desk. "It's just that . . . well it really is unlike Charles to be so absolutely . . . um . . . unfeeling, if you know what I mean."

"You can take up for him all you want, but I'm not!"

Jessie decided to keep quiet instead of making things worse.

Radar's gaze softened. "Sorry, Jess. He just made me so mad . . ."

"Don't worry about it." She didn't take it personally.

Radar scanned her paperwork, making sure it was complete. "Hey, the hydrocortisone is blank. Do you know how many the Major wants?"

"Dang! She's left for R&R about an hour ago. Let me count them. Maybe I can figure out how many she wanted."

She hurried into post-op, pulling open the desk drawer where the supply room key was usually kept. It wasn't there.

"Bigelow, where's the key?" Jessie asked.

"Oh, Major Winchester just came in here to get it. Said something about checking supplies."

"If you and Major Houilihan counted supplies, why is he recounting them?" Radar asked from behind her, echoing her thoughts.

Jessie stood very still, the pieces falling into place.

Jessie slammed the drawer shut, making Bigelow jump. Whirling around, she flew through the door and into the compound, not realizing Radar was right behind her.

Sure enough, the lock was open on the supply room door. Jessie slammed through the door roughly.

"Hold it right there, buster!"

Startled, Charles dropped the bottle of pills on the floor. Thankfully, it still had the lid on it. "What's the meaning of this . . . this interruption, Lieutenant?" He tried to kick the bottle under a table, hoping it went undetected.

Jessie stalked up to Charles, picking it up. She shook it in his face, the pills rattling inside. "How many did you take?"

"Why, I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, flustered.

"Damn it, Charles! How many did you _take_?" Her eyes flashed with anger.

He glanced at Radar standing in the doorway, then looked at the floor. "None."

"But, you were going to, weren't you?"

He didn't reply, just pulled out a chair and sat wearily.

"These things can kill you!"

He opened his mouth to answer.

"And don't tell me you know what you're doing! You don't have a _clue_!"

"Oh, so what made you so ubiquitous all of the sudden?" he scoffed.

She slammed the bottle down in front of him with a bang, making him and Radar jump. "Let me tell you about a friend of mine."

"Don't you think I have better things to occupy my time than listening to you regal me of stories from your quaint childhood?" he sneered.

She shook her finger in his face. "Shut up and listen to me, for once!"

He crossed his arms and looked at her smugly. "And if I don't?"

"I'm taking you _and_ this bottle to Colonel Potter."

Immediately, he lost the haughty expression.

Jessie took it as an invitation to continue. "Adelaide and I grew up together, best friends. We did everything together. Riding lessons. Summer camp. Majorettes. Until graduation from high school. She went to college, majoring pre-med. And, I didn't. Her father was a pharmacist, and she wanted to help people, like he does." Jessie swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat.

Charles was paying attention. "And?"

Radar had never heard her talk about this and was all ears, as well.

Jessie cleared her throat. "Well, the first semester was hard on her. She was away from home and missed her family. We talked and wrote letters some, but she stayed so busy. I didn't know . . . she was struggling. We found out later she had been taking these." She shook the bottle for emphasis, the pills rattling ominously.

Jessie looked at Charles, their eyes meeting. He didn't look away. "One day, she took too many."

Charles paled noticeably.

Jessie picked up the bottle and studied it. "The last time I saw her, she didn't know who I was. Didn't know anyone. The vibrant girl who was like a sister to me is gone." Jessie stopped for a moment before continuing, collecting herself. "She's replaced by the shell of a woman who sits all day and drools on herself. And you know what? She thought she could handle it, too."

Jessie sat the bottle back down in front of him gently and turned to walk out the door. Radar touched her arm as she walked by.

Charles recovered enough from her story to re-tighten the ever-present wall he had built around himself. "Aren't you going to take these with you? Save me from myself?" he called haughtily.

Jessie turned around in the doorway, Radar's hand still on her arm. "I'm not a governess, Charles. Occasionally, I find myself in that role. But, not tonight. I'm too damn tired."

Charles watched her go, surprised she remembered the words he used with her months earlier. He sat and stared at the bottle of pills for a long time.

*************************************

Jessie tried to walk back to post-op, but Radar steered her towards the Swamp. She was so preoccupied, she didn't even notice until they stopped outside the door.

"What in the world are we doing here?"

"Tell them."

"Just let it go, Radar. We can't save him from himself."

"I still think you should tell them."

"Tell us what?" Hawkeye said, opening the door for them. He motioned them inside, and reluctantly, Jessie followed.

She stood in the middle of the tent, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Radar cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "We just came from the supply room. Charles was in there. With a bottle of pills."

B.J. sat up on his cot. "You're kidding!"

Jessie shook her head, putting her hands in her lab coat pocket. "I wish I were."

Hawkeye threw his magazine on the floor. "We sat up with him all night last night! He swore he wouldn't touch another one!"

Radar nudged her in the back. "See. I told you they knew

They all sat in silence, absorbing all the information.

"So, what are we going to do?" Radar asked.

They all looked at Hawkeye. "I agree with Jess. We can't save him from himself. He's going to have to make his own decisions."

"If he would just stop thinking he's so much better than all of us, then he wouldn't even be in this boat!" Jessie argued, suddenly angry. "I just don't see how he can do it to himself. Or to us either."

"We'll keep an eye on him. That's all we can do, I guess," B.J. added. "Thanks for letting us know."

Jessie sighed. "Yeah, anytime."

Radar opened the door for her, worried about the dark look on her face. He was quiet as they walked across the compound.

"Hey, Jess?"

"Hmm?"

"You never told me how many boxes of hydrocortisone to order. Do you want . ."

"No! I'm not going back in there with him! And watch him destroy his life! Just order what you normally order. I'll take the flack if it's not right."

He grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could enter post-op. "Wait a sec, Jess. Are you OK?"

She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I'd hate to see what happened to Adelaide happen to him . . ." Her anger faded as she thought of her friend in Texas who was really no longer her friend at all.

She gave him a brave smile and squeezed his arm before returning to post-op, hoping he was convinced she was fine.

Radar wasn't convinced at all.

***********************************************

Jessie absently ran a brush through her damp hair, thumbing through a magazine. She stretched underneath her blanket, working the kinks out of her tired muscles. As if on cue, wounded had arrived soon after she left the Swamp, and they had all been on their feet for hours.

She watched Charles closely, as did B.J. and Hawkeye, but he had decided he didn't want to speak to anyone in camp, only opening his mouth to demand instruments from the nursing staff. He was just as jumpy as ever, so it was hard to tell if he had taken more pills. It could have easily been aftereffects from those he had already swallowed.

_Damn him! _

Jessie rubbed her forehead, trying to push hostile thoughts out of her head, pausing when she heard a soft knock on her door.

She looked at her bedside clock. _1 a.m. This place never sleeps._ "Come in."

Charles opened the door hesitantly and walked inside.

Just as quickly as her anger had faded, it returned.

She looked away and tossed her magazine aside. "It's kind of difficult to come into someone's tent, yet not say a word. Just like you've done all damn day! Have you taken up ventriloquism, perhaps?"

He didn't reply, so she looked up at him, finally noticing his expression. She jumped up, tossing blankets aside. "Charles, are you OK?"

"It won't stop, Jessamyn. It won't stop."

Gently, she took one of his hands in hers, surprised at how clammy he was. His breathing was irregular, and his hands kept fidgeting. She sat him on the edge of her cot as he muttered, feeling his pulse. It was so rapid, she couldn't count it.

"Charles, look at me."

He wouldn't at first, but he finally did.

Jessie put her hands on her hips. "Did you take . . ."

"_No_! That's what I've been trying to tell you! But, it won't stop! My heart keeps racing, and I can't breathe or eat or sleep or . . . you've got to do something!" He lay back on her pillow. "Please, you've got to help me."

Her mind raced. She had researched amphetamines extensively after Adelaide overdosed. "I . . . I can't do anything. You'll just have to let it run its course."

"Let me stay here. Please. Pierce and Hunnicutt are . . . they stayed up with me last night. I can't ask them again." He covered his face with his hands. "God, I'm a mess! A total wreck! A. . . a failure."

Jessie sighed. "You're not a failure." _But, despite what you think, you're not perfect either._

He rolled onto his side. "I thought I could handle it." His hands shook violently as he rubbed his eyes, his face pasty white. "I know!" He almost sat straight up. "Sing! Your voice . . ." He rolled over to face her, taking her hand. "Please? Anything. Anything at all."

Already exhausted, Jessie still couldn't say no. She had often wondered if Adelaide had asked for help before she overdosed. Or, if the people she surrounded herself with were too caught up in their own lives to notice her spiraling downhill. Plus, the pleading look in Charles's eyes tugged at her.

He rolled away from her, and she stretched out behind him, the cot groaning under the weight of two people as she settled against his back. Automatically, she wrapped her arm around him, laying her cheek on the back of his shirt, which was damp with perspiration.

Desperately, he clutched her hand, clasping it to his chest as she sang softly, anything she could think of.

Slowly, his breathing became steadier and his grip on her hand relaxed.

Just as exhausted, Jessie fell asleep snuggled against his back, her breathing matching his.

********************************

Jessie hit the floor, startled.

_What the hell?_

She struggled to see in the darkness of the tent, her mind trying to figure out who the broad-backed figure was spread across her bunk. Remembering the night before while she rubbed her tired eyes, she stood up, wondering if she should wake him.

_Not after it took me so long to get him to sleep._

Wearily, she gathered her robe around herself and trudged across camp.

The Swamp was quiet when she opened the creaky door, collapsing into Charles's bunk. Burying her face in his pillow, which smelled faintly of his aftershave, she immediately fell asleep.

But, not before wondering how she knew what Charles's aftershave smelt like, anyway.

*************************************

The stench of bad coffee woke her the next morning. She opened one eye to find B.J. and Hawkeye staring down at her, both wearing their trusty robes and sipping the awful brew.

She threw the blanket over her head. "I hate mornings. Instead of waking up safe in bed at home, I wake up here. In hell," she said hoarsely.

"Oh, c'mon, Jess. The Swamp isn't that bad," B.J. said, gesturing with his mug. "We have wall-to-wall fleas and hot-and-cold running rats. Who could want more?"

"You know what I mean. Korea here. Not the Swamp here." She threw Charles's blanket back. "Although Charles is right, you two do live like common slobs."

"He's just jealous of our decorating abilities," Hawkeye said flippantly. He offered her his cup, which she gratefully accepted, sipping gingerly.

"God, my throat is killing me! Even this stuff tastes wonderful."

"OK, Jess, we've got to know. Why are you and Charles playing musical bunks?"

"Yeah, and why weren't we invited to play?" Hawkeye added.

Jessie rolled her eyes skyward. "Honestly, Pierce. I've never had to handle you this early in the morning, and it's not very appealing."

He grinned at her. "Maybe that's because you didn't handle me last night." He laughed as Jessie choked on her coffee.

"Down, Hawk." BJ said. "I'm really curious about why Radar says Charles is in her bunk and she's obviously in his."

Jessie sat her cup down in her lap. "Radar knows?"

B.J. shrugged. "What doesn't Radar know?"

"True." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Bet he wasn't happy, either."

"He knew you were trying to help, but yeah, he didn't look too thrilled."

"Look, he showed up on my doorstep around 1 this morning in a semi-panic. What was I supposed to do?"

"More pills?"

She told them what happened. "I got the impression he didn't want the two of you to sit up with him again. Then, you might think he was weak. Or something to that effect."

"Figures," B.J. shrugged. "I think he'll be OK in a couple of days. If he truly stays away from the drugs." He clapped Jessie on the shoulder. "You're welcome to our humble abode anytime."

"Yeah, at least you don't snore like Charles. Yeesh!" Hawkeye added.

************************************

The day had turned cold, icy fingers of winter trying to snatch the warmth from his body. Charles shivered in the darkness, despite the sweat that trickled down his face.

He wanted those pills! He craved the ability they had to make him feel invincible, able to survive this place until the day he could return home. So far, they were the only things that made it bearable.

He shuddered again, tightening his jacket around his body. The clinical side of his brain told him that he would be just fine in time, the cravings would disappear. Desperately, he wrapped his mind around that thought, trying to speed the healing process along. But, the apparently existent addictive side of his mind screamed for him to find relief in the bottom of a pill bottle. The war of wills was quite disturbing.

But, Jessie helped. He loved her voice, no matter what she was singing, her Texas lilt only slightly making itself known in the lyrics. For his birthday recently, she had even performed an entire act of one of his favorite operas, quite well, actually. He had almost forgotten he was in this godforsaken hell hole, if only for a little while.

He had slept fitfully the night before and wasn't surprised she had retreated elsewhere in the middle of the night. Trying desperately to remain his normal aloof self during the day, he longed to have her hold him and sing to him again.

And that in and of itself was just as disturbing.

A door creaked, and Jessie settled on the ground beside him, wrapped in the blanket from her bed. "What in the world are you doing?"

"I guess you wouldn't believe me if I said it was a perfect night for star gazing, would you?"

She chuckled. "I'd think you were a bald-faced liar."

"I suppose you would be correct."

"So, you're still . . ."

"Yes. Yes, I am. It's better, but it's still there."

He could feel her shiver, and he almost put his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. But, he remembered the wary looks Radar had given him all day, and not knowing why, he stopped.

He could barely make out the outline of her face turned up towards the nighttime sky. "You know, even here, the stars manage to be beautiful."

"But, not as lovely as in Texas, I'm assuming?"

"Oh, never as lovely as that!"

Much to his disappointment, she stood up. "I'm going back to bed." She paused in the doorway. "You coming inside?"

"I . . . I don't know yet."

She didn't reply, but re-entered her tent. He could hear her throw more wood in her stove, then settle back into her cot.

He had never felt he needed anyone in his life. Even as a child, his parents were figures who drifted in and out of his day, never ones to cling to in times of crises. He learned to deal with his problems on his own and was often proud of the fact he could be so self-sufficient.

But, damn if this place didn't wither his spirit and his resolve, turning him into something he was so unfamiliar with that he couldn't make a rational decision if his life depended on it!

Praying his predicable life would one day return to normal, he slipped into her tent, feeling just a tiny bit guilty about what anyone would think if they saw.

She held the blanket up as he climbed into the bed. They lay as they did the night before, his back to her as she snuggled against him, her arm thrown over him. He clutched her hand in his as if it were the only lifeline he had.

"Any requests?"

"Doesn't matter. Just sing. Please."

**********************************

Once again, he rooted her out of her bed. And once again, she found her way to the Swamp, finishing out her night there. Thankfully, B.J. and Hawkeye weren't there, probably off gallivanting at Rosie's, so she woke up the next morning without all the prying questions.

That day, they were inundated with wounded, operating until late the following evening. She worked at Charles's table, and he seemed better, as far as she could tell, still irascible and ill, but that was normal for him. He wasn't one for small talk in the operating room, so she really couldn't be sure.

When they all finally crawled into their beds, Jessie lay awake, wondering if he was doing well enough to not need her anymore. She rolled onto her side, curious as to why it even mattered.

The sun woke her late the next morning, alone.


	21. Chapter 21

The wet winter weeks turned into just as wet spring weeks. Jessie swore she was going to grow mold if it didn't stop raining. The number of wounded sharply decreased as fighting resumed further away from their location. So, they were surprised one day to have a wounded Korean stumble into camp.

Klinger ran to post-op where Jessie and Charles were on duty.

"Sirs, there's a wounded local outside, and she looks hurt pretty bad! Looks like she's pregnant, too!" he said, rushing into the door with a swish of skirts, then rushing back out with Jessie and Charles on his heels.

The woman was sitting on the ground leaning against the wheel of a jeep, holding her wound. Blood seeped through her fingers as she looked helplessly up at them. Charles knelt down on the ground beside the woman who cringed.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly. Jessie kneeled next to Charles and smiled, hoping it would help. He pried her fingers loose from her stomach. Jessie flinched when she saw the wound.

"Corporal, get us a stretcher. Then go find Col. Potter," he ordered Klinger, who saluted smartly and ran off to find someone to help. "Lieutenant, start her on an IV while I scrub up. And hold this on her wound before she bleeds out." He took off his lab coat and handed it to Jessie.

Jessie patted the woman on the shoulder and smiled, hoping she looked convincing. "You'll be alright. The doctors here are the best."

The woman looked at her blankly. Jessie was startled to find such a cold look, but she shook it off as her imagination.

Klinger and an orderly arrived with the stretcher and carried the woman into pre-op. While Jessie prepped her, she kept up an aimless chatter to soothe the girl's mind. Jessie was glad Margaret wanted to scrub in for the surgery. The almost hateful looks Jessie was getting from the woman startled her, and she found herself rubbing her arms against the chill as she watched the orderlies carry the stretcher into OR.

**********************************************

"It's strange. It was like she hated all of us," Jessie said, her head buried deep in the crate she was rummaging through. She pulled out several items and nodded her head in satisfaction.

"Maybe she was shot by an American," Radar suggested, also rifling through a nearby barrel.

"Maybe she just doesn't like us in Korea," Hawkeye said. He picked up some of the decoration scattered across the floor of the supply room and studied them before tossing them aside. "We ought to just all go home, if they're going to be that way".

Jessie snorted. "Maybe I was just imagining things, but that woman was looking daggers at all of us. I had a feeling she would have rather been anywhere but where she was." She stopped what she was doing. "So, anyone asked you to the Sadie Hawkins dance, Hawkeye?" She grinned at him devilishly as Hawkeye rolled his eyes.

"Who _hasn't_ asked me to the dance, should be your question," he said flippantly. "So many females, so little time."

Jessie heard Radar chuckle from deep in the barrel he was rifling through. She threw a party hat at his back.

"You better decide, the dance is tonight, you know. I've heard all the nurses were just _dying_ to go with you to the dance," Jessie said theatrically, holding her clasped hands to her chest.

Hawkeye kicked at her. "_You_ haven't asked me yet," he said suggestively.

Radar re-emerged suddenly from the barrel, hitting his head on the edge of it. "Ouch!" he mumbled, glaring at Hawkeye.

Jessie laughed. "Oh, you guys are all the same." She leaned over to gather up the various decorations scattered about as B.J. sauntered into the room.

"Hiya, guys. Working hard?"

"Or hardly working," Radar said, glaring at Hawkeye, who was lounging nearby.

Jessie handed B.J. an armful of decorations. "Take these to the mess tent will you?" she said, batting her lashes at him.

"I never could resist a lady," B.J. said, bowing as regally as he could with his arms full of hats and trinkets.

They walked across camp, their arms full. "Oh, thought you would like to know that your Korean friend is awake," B.J. said, glaring at an empty-armed Hawkeye to open the door. Hawkeye didn't get the hint.

"Oh really," Jessie said, getting the door open with her pinkie finger and holding it open with her hip. "Can she speak any English?"

"Not really," B.J. said, huffing as he plopped his load down on the nearest table.

"Did she say anything? You know, about the baby?" Radar asked. Charles and Margaret worked feverishly, but the baby did not survive.

B.J. cocked his head in thought. "She seemed fairly oblivious until we finally got it through to her that she lost the baby. We had to get one of the local boys to translate. "

Radar shook his head sadly. "Did you find out what happened?" He steadied Jessie, who was scrambling up on a table to hang tissue paper from the rafters of the tent.

B.J. rubbed his mustache. "Her name is Yung Lee, and she says she's a local. Her husband was killed, and she's living by herself a few miles up the road. She claims that she was working in a field and someone shot at her from the road."

"But you don't believe that?" Jessie questioned, looked down at B.J.

"Charles said that her wound was from close range. She even had powder burns."

"You think she did it herself?" Hawkeye asked, incredulous. He stopped lazily putting popcorn on a string, eating more than he was stringing. Jessie and Radar looked at each other in shock.

B.J. shook his head. "No, I just don't think that's it. The angle's all wrong."

Jessie clambered down from the table, wiping her hands on her pants legs. "Did you get some sort of odd feeling that she seemed to – I don't know – hate you?" She told him about her interactions with the woman earlier.

B.J. shrugged. "She seemed friendly enough. As friendly as someone who has lost a child could be."

Hawkeye studied Jessie. "Leave reading people's mind to Radar. You haven't quite mastered the ability."

Jessie stuck her tongue out at Hawkeye while Radar laughed at them both. "I guess you're right," she said, rifling through the tissue paper to find the color she wanted. While the breakfast crowd cleared out, Jessie left Father Mulcahy in charge of decorating and walked over to post-op. The room was almost empty, so it was easy to spot the small woman's frame in a cot near the doorway.

Jessie nudged Bigelow, who was on duty, as she walked by.

"How's she doing?" she asked, motioning towards Yung Lee.

"She's doing very well, considering what she went through," Bigelow said, her arms full of charts. "So, see you at the dance?"

"I'll be there," Jessie said absently. Yung Lee appeared to be asleep when Jessie walked to the side of her cot. She slowly opened her eyes and focused on Jessie.

"Hi, Yung Lee. Remember me?" She chuckled at her own questions, knowing the woman couldn't speak any English.

Yung Lee just studied Jessie closely as she sat down on the empty cot.

"Sorry about your baby," Jessie said. Yung Lee looked down at her hands lying listlessly on the blanket. Although Jessie knew she couldn't understand a word she said, she patted the Korean girl on the arm. "Sorry about your husband, too. It must be hard living by yourself."

Jessie was taken aback when Yung Lee raised her head, looking into Jessie's eyes. Although she had tears running down her cheeks, she glared at Jessie for only a moment with such hatred that Jessie sucked in her breath. Jessie sat there a moment, wondering what to do. She wondered if Yung Lee understood more than she led on.

"I guess an American must have done this to you for you to look at me like that. I bet you didn't tell the boy who was translating the entire truth, did you?"

Yung Lee didn't look up at her again, humming a song to herself as she studied her hands.

"You know, if I lost my husband and my baby, I'd probably hate the world right now, too." Jessie watched closely for any reaction. There was none.

She just sighed and rose from the cot, walking towards Bigelow.

"Do you get a strange feeling about her?" she said, motioning towards Yung Lee.

Bigelow chewed on the end of her pen. "Now that you mention it, she seems to be giving me mixed signals, like she wants to be friendly, but then she doesn't," Bigelow said, cocking her head. "But, she has gone through a lot, and she's with a bunch of us who don't understand Korean, so maybe we're just getting it wrong."

Jessie sighed. "You're probably right. "She changed the subject. "So, how did you manage to get off duty tonight to come to the dance?"

"Oh, B.J. said he would be alright by himself. Apparently, dances are not his thing if Peg isn't here." She made a face.

Jessie smiled. "Yeah, that monogamy can sure keep you from having fun, huh?"

*********************************************

Jessie visited Yung Lee a few more times that day, mostly just sitting by her bed and not speaking a word. Yung Lee didn't give her anymore of those strange looks, and Jessie even made her laugh once by pointing at Klinger when he came sauntering into the tent wearing a cheerleader outfit. Still, Jessie couldn't shake from her mind that something was out of sorts.

The dance was just getting started when Jessie and Radar walked hand-in-hand into the mess tent.

Kelleye thrust a drink in Jessie's hand. "Here, have some punch," she said brightly. "I made it myself."

Jessie took a cautious sip and brightened, making Kelleye smile appreciatively. "I don't know how you could make something this good out of what we had, but don't tell me, I don't want to know."

"Where's your hat?" Kelleye asked, motioning to the hat on her own head. The nurses had spent the last several days decorating straw hats with anything they could rummage up. Kelleye's was sporting woven tissue paper.

Jessie snapped her fingers. "I forgot!" She tugged on Radar's arm and motioned that she would be right back. The noisy crowd in the mess tent made conversation almost non-existent.

He nodded in response, and she worked her way out of the crowded tent to the door. She took a breath of cool air once she was outside.

It was dark, but Jessie had never felt afraid in the compound. She hurried to her tent and was opening the door when she saw movement a few tents down.

She let go of the door handle. Everyone was at the dance, and she didn't spot a guard close-by at the moment. She cautiously walked towards the neighboring tent. "Who's there?" she called.

She was startled to find Yung Lee leaning on some crates. Somewhere, she had gotten some clothing. The white gown she wore was too long for her short frame, and it flapped in the evening breeze. "Yung Lee! What are you doing this far from post-op? Let me help you," she said, supporting her arm.

She was surprised with Yung Lee snatched her arm out of her grasp.

"No!" the girl said vehemently.

"So you _can_ speak English! And you're not going anywhere but back to bed." Jessie reached for Yung Lee's arm again, but she surprised her by pushing her hand out of the way.

"Hey!" Jessie said, taken aback. She sucked in her breath when Yung Lee produced a pistol from the folds of her clothes. It looked like an American pistol, but it had one modification. There was an 18-inch homemade blade secured to the barrel.

_Now, where did she get that?_

Jessie held her arms in front of her, wishing too late that someone had come with her. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you."

Yung Lee chuckled cruelly. "Walk." She motioned with the gun.

Jessie nervously eyed the blade and backed into the open. She prayed silently that someone was in the compound.

Her heart fell when no one was in sight. The only sound was laughter coming from the mess tent, out of sight. "Where exactly are we going?" She tried – and failed - not to look scared.

"North."

Jessie's eyes widened in panic. "You're North Korean," she whispered, mostly to herself. She glanced around, looking for a weapon, but there wasn't one to be had. She wondered if she screamed, how long it would take for someone to get to her before Yung Lee shot her or stabbed her.

_Or both_.

She felt her knees go weak, but fought it. "Listen, you're sick," she said in her best panic-free voice. "We'll look after you until you're better. We won't mistreat you, I promise."

Yung Lee didn't answer and motioned her along with the pistol.

Jessie thought about the rumors about Americans being held captive by North Koreans. None of it was good, and her palms began to sweat. She studied the girl closely and saw she still seemed a little uncertain, even with the gun and threats.

_Definitely not idle threats._

Jessie took a deep breath. She had to try. "We won't hurt you, and we'll make sure you get the best treatment possible. I won't even tell anyone that you're North Korean. It can be a secret."

Yung Lee smiled wickedly. "Scared?"

Jessie swallowed hard, knowing she probably looked terrified.

"They did this to me." Yung Lee said, gesturing at herself.

Jessie's terror-stricken mind had a little trouble comprehending, but it finally dawned on her. "They shot you?" she said incredulously. "Why?"

"Because they wanted me to get into camp. Was the only way." Yung Lee's voice was bitter.

Jessie stood still in the darkness. She wanted to get this girl talking. Anything to get her to forget about the gun. "Why didn't they just shoot you in the arm?"

Tears sprang to Yung Lee's eyes, but she waved the homemade blade in front of her again. "American." The Korean's voice was devoid of all emotion.

After a moment, Jessie understood. "The father was American, and they didn't want you to have the baby, did they?" _Now, what was an American doing with a North Korean?_ "Look, just let me get you back to bed, then we'll talk about this." She held out her hand. "Let me have the gun, and we'll forget this ever happened."

Yung Lee wavered, watching Jessie closely.

Jessie smiled at her, hoping she looked sincere.

"Halt!" a guard said from the shadows on their left.

Jessie recognized him as a private who had only been there a week. But, she didn't have time to react as Yung Lee pointed the gun in his direction. Automatically, Jessie grabbed her arm, and the shot went wild.

Yung Lee struggled out of Jessie's grasp, grabbing Jessie around the waist and turning her to face the terrified guard with the rifle. She held the blade to her neck, cold steel biting into her flesh.

*********************************************

"Hey, Radar. Where's Jess?" Hawkeye asked, his arms draped over two nurses.

"She went back to her tent for something," Radar said, distracted. "Maybe I should check on her." Something just didn't _feel_ right, but he couldn't quite name it.

"Nah, she's alright." One of the nurses giggled as he whispered something in her ear.

"I don't know. . ." Radar said, peering through the open flaps of the tent. His eyes widened, and seconds before the gunshot was fired, he darted out the door.

Everyone screamed and ducked underneath tables.

Hawkeye picked himself off the floor and raced to follow Col. Potter, BJ and Klinger outside. Radar was already out of sight.

"Damn, where did that come from?" Col. Potter said, glancing around the compound. They turned the corner towards the nurses' tent and stopped in their tracks.

***********************************************

Don't you hate a cliff hanger? I'll be out of town until Sunday, too. Bwahahahahaha!!


	22. Chapter 22

Sorry to make you wait folks! The beach called!

********************************

His heart in his throat, Radar was halfway to Jessie's tent when the shot rang out. He skidded to a halt in the middle of the compound.

Yung Lee was half dragging Jessie across the compound, using her as a shield. The Korean had grasped her around her chest and shoulder with one arm, holding a pistol to her neck, keeping Jessie between herself and the visibly shaken guard.

Jessie tugged frantically at the girl's arm around her throat, but it wouldn't budge.

"Jessie!" Radar couldn't help himself.

Yung Lee whirled to face this new threat.

Jessie winced as the blade dug deeper into her neck.

Yung Lee pointed the gun at Radar for a moment before turning it back on Jessie.

Radar numbly backed up and put his hands in front of him. "OK, OK," he said placatingly. "Just don't hurt her, OK?"

"Great balls of fire!" Col. Potter said, racing around the corner. "What's going on here?" He halted behind Radar, spotting the two women. "Good Lord!"

Yung Lee held the blade tighter to Jessie's neck. She cried out softly as it bit further into her skin.

Panicked, Radar took a step forward, causing Yung Lee to turn the gun on him.

The terrified guard pointed his rifle at the two women.

"Private, put down that rifle!" Col. Potter commanded.

The soldier lowered the barrel hesitantly, his eyes wide with fear.

"Stop!" Yung Lee commanded at Radar, who was still slowly trying to advance towards them.

"If you don't stop right there, I'll make sure you stay in Leavenworth until you're a little old corporal!" Col. Potter threatened.

Jessie felt something warm down her neck and realized this crazy girl had already cut her. She knew she had to do something or Yung Lee would kill them both.

"Stop, Walter, please!"

Radar stopped hesitantly, his eyes never leaving hers. A breeze picked up, and Yung Lee's long gown lazily wrapped around Jessie's legs.

_Stop, Walter, please! _

God help them all, it was his _nightmare_!

His knees threatened to shake at living the terror. But, he didn't dare break down on her now.

"Now, tell me what's going on here," Col. Potter said soothingly. "If something's wrong, we'll fix it."

Yung Lee repeated her story. "If you don't give me jeep, she dies," she said, holding the gun to Jessie's temple, the blade winking menacingly.

Jessie shut her eyes and swallowed, willing herself not to be sick.

"No!" Radar yelled. He turned towards the crowd. "Colonel, do something!"

Col. Potter stayed silent, watching his company clerk closely. He hated these moments of decision that a commander was called to make. And this one was no easier than any of them.

"Klinger, go get a jeep," he finally said quietly.

Klinger started to argue, but thought better of it and slipped away.

Radar stared at the Colonel incredulously.

"Colonel, you can't be serious?" Charles said, barging his way through the crowd, saying what Radar couldn't quite find words to say. "She'll kill her, if her North Korean compatriots don't!"

"Major, we have a better chance of getting the Lieutenant out of _there_ alive than _here_." Col. Potter said through clenched teeth. "If we don't get this girl what she wants, she's going to kill her anyway, and right in front of us, too!"

While Charles and Colonel Potter argued, Radar turned to face the women. His heart twisted in his chest when he saw the blood already staining Jessie's collar.

She was going to die. And he couldn't allow it, not while he had any breath in his body.

"Yung Lee, don't do this. Jessie's never hurt you. No one in this camp has hurt you. All we want to do is _help_ you!"

Yung Lee started to reply, but the sound of a jeep pulling into the compound startled her, and she jumped at the noise.

Jessie struggled, trying to put a few centimeters between her neck and the blade.

Yung Lee pointed the gun at Klinger, who slowly exited the driver's seat, his hands in the air as he moved towards the stunned group. She drug Jessie towards the jeep.

Jessie was really starting to panic. Although Radar was a few yards away, she could tell he was also frantically trying to come up with anything to help her.

"Wait!" Radar said, moving towards the pair. He stopped when Yung Lee pointed the gun at him.

Jessie struggled in her grasp in protest, but Yung Lee held on.

Radar stuck out his chin defiantly. "Take me instead. I-I know more – umm - secrets. I could be more use to you." It was the only thing he could think to do.

The rest of camp, helpless, stared in wonder.

"No . . ." Jessie managed to choke out.

Yung Lee pointed the gun back on her and seemed to think about his offer.

Jessie held her breath and tried to get Radar to look at her. He avoided her gaze.

But, Yung Lee made up her mind. "No."

Radar slumped.

Jessie let out the breath she was holding as Yung Lee continued. "Told to get female. Can have . . . other uses."

The implied meaning hung in the air.

Jessie shut her eyes against the words. She heard the nurses gasp. Charles once again started protesting.

_Poor Charles, he's only trying to help_.

She knew Col. Potter was right. They did have a better chance of saving her when she didn't have Yung Lee pointing a gun at her.

_But, what would be left of me to save?_

Radar went pale at Yung Lee's words as he watched her drag Jessie towards the jeep, the girl's too-long white gown wrapping around them both.

_The nightmare._ _Do something_.

He straightened his back and followed.

"Corporal!" Col. Potter yelled in warning, but Radar didn't listen. He was too focused, noticing for the first time blood staining Yung Lee's kimono. He knew she couldn't hold up much longer.

"You're hurt." He tried to keep his voice from trembling. He wasn't sure where this momentary spurt of bravery had come from, and he didn't stop to think about it.

Yung Lee stopped, continuing to hold the knife at Jessie's neck.

Jessie mouthed "no" to him, but he ignored her.

"Just hand me the gun. No one's going to hurt you. We're a hospital. We're not supposed to hurt anybody. Please," he added, although politeness was certainly out of the question. But, if he thought getting down on his hands and knees would work, he'd do that, too.

The jeep's headlights shown weakly on the scene. He had moved to within several feet of the women. There was no sound as the rest of the camp held its breath.

Yung Lee pointed the gun at Radar. Still he kept moving towards them. He knew he was supposed to be scared, but the fear he felt for Jessie kept him going.

Jessie saw the gun waver for a moment. Yung Lee was just a girl, and Jessie thought she didn't really want to shoot anybody.

But, then she saw Yung Lee's grip tighten as she made her decision. The gun steadied, and Jessie saw her squeeze the trigger.

Panicked, Jessie bit Yung Lee's upper arm as hard as she could, clamping down hard.

Yung Lee jerked, and the shot went wild. Everyone hit the deck.

Cursing in Korean, Yung Lee threw Jessie to the ground, knocking the breath out of her.

Radar almost fainted with relief. His nightmare didn't end like this. Jessie was out of the girl's reach. Safe. But, she still had the gun. He had to talk her out of it.

Jessie struggled to breathe and grabbed the bumper of the jeep to hoist herself off the ground. She turned, still leaning on it for support, her heart in her throat.

It wasn't over yet. Yung Lee, obviously angry, was yelling something in Korean, rubbing her arm and moving closer to the jeep.

Radar was talking to her soothingly, trying to get the gun from her. When she stopped yelling, he thought he had gotten through to her. But, when she raised the gun and pointed it at him, he knew he was in trouble.

But, he kept moving towards her, his hand outstretched, trying his best to get her to hand it over. It was pure instinct, his desire to want to help those in trouble, animal or human, overriding his better judgement.

***********************************

They were only a few steps away. Jessie could once again see Yung Lee's trigger finger tighten.

Radar stopped mid-sentence and shut his eyes.

She heard Col. Potter shouting, but he sounded far away.

In fact, everything seemed so very, very far away. Jessie thought about yelling, but didn't think it would matter now.

She took several steps, her eyes never leaving the gun.

************************************

Radar saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but couldn't move fast enough in the split second between when she entered his line of vision and Yung Lee pulled the trigger.

She was so close that the force of the bullet knocked her backwards. He caught her as they both hit the ground.

Pandemonium erupted. Yung Lee didn't hesitate to use the confusion to her advantage. She stumbled to the jeep and jumped in, tossing the gun in the passenger seat. The jeep turned over, and she hit the gas, racing out of camp.

Col. Potter demanded a stretcher, and Margaret and the nurses rushed to pre-op.

But, Radar noticed none of it. All he saw was blood. Everywhere, it seemed. On her, on him, on the ground. Frantically, he tried to find the source of it, trying to save her when he couldn't even manage to do it in his own dreams.

She was limp, heavy against him, and so pale, he thought she was already gone.

_Damn it to hell, why did she do that? _

Charles was there almost immediately. He knelt in front of Radar as he cradled her, his hands pressed firmly to the wound in her chest to staunch the flow of blood slowly seeping through his fingers.

Radar wanted to say something to the doctor, but couldn't.

Charles pried his fingers away. When he did, blood flowed faster. He cursed. "Hawkeye, scrub in on this one, will you?" He pressed Radar's hands back on the wound. "Don't move them until I tell you to."

Radar just nodded numbly, his eyes pleading.

Charles had to look away, the desperate look in the younger man's eyes more than he could take. With a shaky hand, he checked her pulse. It was weak, but steady. He looked at her dog tags and breathed a sigh of relief that she had a common blood type.

The orderlies arrived with the stretcher, and Charles and Hawkeye struggled to get her on it. Radar kept his hands pressed firmly on her wounded chest as instructed.

The nurses were frantically preparing OR when they carried Jessie's stretcher into pre-op. Margaret was scrubbing up to assist as Charles barked orders.

Radar heard none of it. All he could focus on was Jessie, lying so still and pale on the stretcher. He tried not to look at his hands, which were covered in blood. _Jessie's blood._ He swallowed hard. His arms were numb from putting so much pressure on her wound. But, still the blood came, some of it pooling in small puddles at his feet. And she didn't move or make a sound.

He leaned in close. "C'mon, Jess, don't you die on me now," he pled. She didn't respond. But, what did he expect? He saw this happen time and time again most every night. And what did he do about it? Not one damn thing! He maneuvered his shoulder to swipe at a tear running down his cheek.

When Margaret came up behind him with a large sterile towel, he jumped.

"Here, O'Reilly, let me," she said softly.

Radar looked at Charles who nodded once. Slowly, he moved his hands, releasing pressure. Before the blood could start flowing, Margaret was there with the towel. She nodded to the orderlies, who took the stretcher into OR.

Before Radar realized it, they were gone, the doors into OR swinging.

He felt like he was swimming in a fog.

"Here, son, let's get you cleaned up," Col. Potter said from somewhere behind him.

Numbly, Radar looked down at his hands, which were covered in red. He dully wiped his hands on his shirt, but his shirt was covered in almost as much blood as his hands.

_Who knew the human body could hold so much blood?_

That thought just made him sicker.

He allowed himself to be led over to the washroom. Col. Potter turned on the facet and motioned for Radar to wash.

In a daze, Radar did as he was instructed. The water pooled in pink puddles at the bottom of the sink.

Jessie's blood.

The nightmare. The gun shot.

But, now he couldn't wake up.

He gripped the side of the sink, dizzy.

"Take it easy, son," Col. Potter said, grabbing his arm. "You'll be fine." He led Radar to a chair and sat him down.

Radar took deep breaths until the dizzy spell had eased. He focused on the blood stains on his clothing.

_She could die_.

The reality of the situation hit him, and he put his head in his hands. Col. Potter sat next to him.

"She just walked between us, right in front of the gun," he muttered. He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. "I thought she was safe when the girl let her go, but she wasn't. I could have stopped her, but I-I wasn't paying attention. Now -" He gestured helplessly towards the doors to OR. A curse floated through the thin walls.

_They were losing her . . ._

Radar couldn't realize why even Colonel Potter didn't feel the frustration and borderline panic rolling in waves from the next room. It left him riveted to the seat, eyes wide, as it ebbed and flowed.

He'd only seen Major Winchester get that upset on several occasions. They all involved the death of a patient.

_They were losing her . . ._

Col. Potter cleared his throat to get the corporal's attention. "You know we have the best damn doctors in Korea. If anyone can save her, it's Winchester. And let me tell you something about women. I don't care what the Bible says, they are _not_ the weaker sex!" He slammed his fist in his other palm for emphasis. "I know plenty of females who would do just what Jessie did and not think twice about it. Including my Mildred. They bounce back faster from these sort of things than we do, you know."

But, Radar wasn't paying any attention. Too much was going on. Too damn much.

And, there wasn't anything he could do about it. But wait.

And pray.


	23. Chapter 23

"Suction," Charles barked, his frustration obvious to everyone in OR.

Margaret immediately cleared the area. The bullet had struck Jessie high in the chest, breaking several ribs before coming to rest. Hawkeye had already dug it out, but Charles had been looking for almost a half hour for the cause of so much blood.

"Pressure?" Charles asked as he worked, adrenaline making his ears ring.

"90 over 50," B.J. replied. "Falling steadily."

Charles grunted in reply. Sweat threatened to drip into his eyes. Hawkeye tried to help where he could, but Charles's frantic operating had them all a little perplexed. They would steal glances at each other, silently questioning the deathly pale look on Charles's face.

And still her pressure dropped.

**********************************

Radar could not – would not – look in the window into OR. If he did, he was afraid he'd see what he could feel all around him.

She was drifting away.

If he thought screaming at the top of his lungs would help, he'd do it. And, as frustrated as he was, he wanted to yell even if it _didn't_ help. Anything but this endless waiting.

People came and went. Some would whisper words of comfort, but as they were speaking, he would just look at them, almost as if they were talking in another language.

_She's dying! Don't you realize that? Don't any of you see it? Feel it?_

Despite being surrounded by people, Radar felt completely and utterly alone, set adrift in a world he could no longer control. He kept replaying the final moments in the compound over and over and over, trying to come up with a different ending, something he could have done.

But, what did it matter now? Her presence was just as much in this room as if she were actually standing there, watching him, trying to tell him - what? He swore he could reach out and touch her. And maybe – just maybe – she was telling him good-bye. Telling him he would make it without her, go on with his life.

It was more of a whisper, all the pleading he could manage.

"You can't leave, Jess. You just can't."

*******************************************************

If Jessie was in her right mind, she would have scoffed at the idea of spirits and ghosts. Klinger had once claimed in a feverous state that he saw ghosts of the dead wandering around camp, eventually heading down a road leading to their final reward.

Frankly, Jessie didn't believe him.

But right now, she wasn't in her right mind. Or any mind at all for that matter.

She watched Charles and Hawkeye working, surgical tools she was all too familiar with clanging into trays under Margaret's watchful eye. Not once did she find it strange that she was standing by, an idle stranger as her body was opened, prodded and sliced.

Maybe she should care. But, it wasn't as if she had a choice in the matter. Control of her life had irrevocably slipped out of her hands when the bullet lodged itself in her chest.

But, she couldn't feel the pain anymore, the sharp, slicing, horrendous pain that pored through her nerve endings before she blacked out.

Her life rested in the hands of her friends. She was left at their mercy, her soul not quite prepared to leave this world, but not ready to face the next.

As Charles cursed, she lost interest in the scene unfolding before her. Aimlessly, she wandered about OR, touching, but not really feeling, the inanimate objects that had become such a part of her daily routine – a gas tank here, a scalpel there. They were a part of a world that was losing its tenuous hold on her.

She should care about what her family, her friends would say about her death. She should want to stay. But, somehow, she realized it was no longer her choice to make.

_You can't leave, Jess. You just can't._

His words floated through what was left of the mind she thought she'd lost. She grasped at them, a spark of life threatening the tenacious hold the next world was having on her soul.

**********************************

"Her pressure just spiked," B.J. said tonelessly, focusing on the machines.

"Is it steady?" Hawkeye asked.

"No. It might have even been a glitch in the machine."

*********************************

Jessie found herself in the scrub room, wan faces that had laughed and cried with her during her months in Korea drifting in and out of the small room.

Drifting. That's what she was doing, too.

Waiting. Waiting on the decision to be made.

_You can't leave like this._

His words startled her back to some semblance of reality.

He was sitting by the door, his head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Once again, if she were in her right mind, she would have recoiled at the sight of him. As detached as she had become, she knew the sight of her own blood.

He wasn't saying the words aloud. At least, she didn't think so. Perhaps she could only hear them in her head. After all, she had never been dead, so she didn't know what sort of skills one who was would possess.

_Don't go._

As much as his quiet pleading tugged at what was left of her emotions, she was drawn further and further away. He would be OK, even without her, he would be OK.

******************************************************

Margaret hustled through the door. "Father, we need you."

"No, goddamnit, we _don't_!" Charles's voice boomed from inside, echoing throughout the room.

The priest went anyway. After all, he answered to a higher authority than a drafted Army major.

***************************************************

Radar never once moved, remained against the wall, his eyes shut tightly, seeing things behind closed lids only he could see. He already knew, had known since the surgery started. But, tears – his dear, sweet tears – had begun to fall once again.

_For God's sakes, Jess, I love you._

_I know. But I don't have any choice. _She answered him, althou quite convinced replying was fruitless, her presence undetected to anyone, including him.

But, she should have known better.

His tear-filled eyes fluttered open for a moment, searching about the room. For one strange second, she thought he could see her. And for once, she knew what _he_ was thinking. For a change.

_It's not your fault, Walter._

He looked away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve before taking a deep breath and leaning back against the wall, the tears still falling down his cheeks.

He couldn't see her. It was just wishful thinking.

But, for the first time since she entered this very bizarre state, she wanted very desperately to live.

************************************************

"Ah, ha!" Charles said triumphantly, spotting the problem. "Found it!" He immediately stitched up the tiny hole. The blood stopped.

"110 over 60. Pressure's coming up. Charles, you did it!" B.J. said enthusiastically.

"Thank God!" the priest whispered.

"You sly dog," Hawkeye said, helping him stitch Jessie up. "Now, you're going to be the big hero. I bet she gives you a wet, slobbery kiss when she wakes up."

"Pierce?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

**************************************

Just as suddenly as he could feel her presence around him, she was gone.

"No . . ." he whispered to no one in particular, but knew deep down in his soul there was nothing he could do.

And it broke his heart.

He couldn't break down here. Not now. But, soon they were going to come out here – all of them – and give him the bad news.

He didn't know if he could take it. She was the only one he had ever truly loved, and now . . .

Hawkeye threw open the OR doors.

"The hero entereth!" he said merrily, bowing to let Charles pass.

Charles rolled his eyes as he pulled off his bloody gloves.

Radar jumped up, pulse racing. His first instinct was to yell at them for acting so trivial with Jessie lying in the next room, dead. He went pale as the thought hit home.

_She can't be . . ._

"Really, Pierce, you should work on your bedside manner," Charles said haughtily, not paying any attention to Radar's distress. He began to wash his hands.

"Well, spit it out boys, what's the verdict?" Col. Potter demanded. He had watched his company clerk closely during the entire ordeal, could tell the boy was hanging on by a thread.

Hawkeye clapped Radar on the shoulder so hard, he stumbled. "She'll be just fine, thanks to Chuck here. Found that nicked artery. Just in time, too."

"You mean . . . she'll be OK?" Radar asked, not quite believing it.

Hawkeye sat the weary corporal down. "She's had quite a blow to her system, Radar. But, if she makes it through the first 24 hours, we think she'll be right as rain. Probably ill as a hornet when she wakes up, though, but just as good as new. " He hoped.

Radar took a deep breath. This could still end just like his nightmare . . . but, he couldn't think about that right now.

Charles dried his hands and throwing the towel in the hamper. "If you gentlemen need me, I'll be in my tent."

Hawkeye patted Radar's knee. "You did good, kid," he said. "If it wasn't for you, she'd have bled out in the compound. Now, get out of those clothes. You can't have your lady waking up and seeing you like that."

"Pierce is right. Go change. She'll be in post-op by the time you're done," Col. Potter said, clapping the dazed boy on the shoulder.

*****************************************************

Charles went straight to Pierce and Hunnicutt's still and poured himself a large belt, swallowing it swiftly. He shuddered at the taste, poured himself another one and sank wearily onto his cot. This one he drank a little slower. Hoping for a diversion, he reached out to turn on his phonograph, craving solace in music.

He noticed the slight tremor in his fingers as his hand touched the switch. Pausing, he held out his hand, a little perplexed at his response to her predicament.

He had been scared . . .no . . . he had been downright terrified! The thought of her at the hands of the North Koreans made his blood run cold. But, that wasn't as bad as the sight of her blood. The emotions that coursed through him when he looked down at his hands in the compound and realized they were covered with her most precious life source almost choked him, threatening the stalwart wall he had built around himself.

What made her different from anyone else? During the harried operation, he had tried - oh, how he had tried! – to think in only safe, clinical terms, dismissing the obvious – he was operating on a wonderful woman with a charming wit and beautiful voice. Out of anyone in this awful place, he allowed her closer to him than most.

But, damn it, he never panicked! He was a professional and should act like one!

_I should go check on her. Sit with her._

_But, that's O'Reilly's place. Not mine._

He threw back the rest of the gin and lay back on his cot, his arm thrown over his eyes, trying not to think of anything at all.

*************************************

Radar was surprised at how small she looked. "She looks pale. Is that normal?" he pensively asked.

B.J. chuckled. "She lost a lot of blood, most of it on you, remember?"

The pair was standing at the foot of her cot in post op. Radar had his ever-present hat in his hands and was turning it around and around.

"Can she . . . I mean . . . does she know . . . we're here?"

B.J. motioned him towards her. "Sit with her. Talk to her. It can't hurt."

Radar took the few steps and sank wearily in a chair someone had placed by her bed. He touched her shoulder softly as he watched her even breathing. Finding her hand, he held it tightly, hoping for a sign that she knew he was there.

She didn't move.

And, he was afraid. Afraid if he went to sleep, the nightmares would start again, although he didn't know how anything he could dream up would be as awful as what he was living right now.

He was afraid if he took his eyes off her, he'd lose her again. She might try to slip away from him just like she did before. As helpless as he felt, he never wanted to go through that again.

But, he was imagining things. That's all. She was alive, the rise and fall of her chest reassuring despite the bandages and IVs and charts.

He folded his arms across his chest. He would wait for her to wake. Right here. To prove to himself he was wrong all along. She would live, despite what he dreamed. Even if it took a week, he would wait right here.

And wait he did, as nurses and doctors flowed about him. He waited all through the night, his eyes never leaving her. Early the next morning, he still kept watch.

But, he was so tired. After dawn, he found himself in the empty cot next to hers, wanting to sleep, but so afraid he would waken to find her gone.

His exhaustion won out, and soon, he was asleep, forgetting, at least temporarily, his own inabilities to keep her safe.

***************************************

The first thing Jessie noticed was the intense, throbbing pain, like something heavy was sitting on her chest. In her half-conscious state, she was confused. She knew she was still at the 4077th because the noises of the camp starting a new day infiltrated her muddled brain.

_But, why do I hurt so badly?_

She squirmed in the cot, keeping her eyes shut against the sunlight streaming in the dirty window. She tried to take a deep breath, but winced.

_That's it! Straw hat! She had gone back to her tent to get it and . . . _

She opened her eyes wide, not quite focusing on anything around her and struggled to sit up in the bed.

_The wounded Korean girl! She had a gun and a knife!_

She frantically felt around her neck, but there was no blood. Just another bandage.

Nothing made any sense at all.

"Welcome back. We've been worried about you."

Jessie squinted at the blurry figure sitting on the edge of the cot, the sun still shining in her eyes.

"B.J.," she croaked, relieved to see the familiar mustache. Her throat was sore, and she coughed a bit, which made her hurt even more. He handed her a glass, but she pushed it away, frustrated.

"What happened?" she whispered frantically, struggling to sit. "Where is he?"

B.J. gently pushed her back. "Jess, he's OK, he's right there," he replied soothingly, pointing. "Be still, or you'll tear your stitches. Charles won't be happy."

"Next to me? Is he . . ."

Jessie ignored B.J.'s order to be still. She managed to prop herself on one arm, fighting exhaustion, and focus on the cot next to her. Radar was sound asleep.

She found herself blinking back tears of relief.

"No, he's just fine. Except for worrying about you," B.J. said, coaxing her to drink. This time, she took it and drank greedily.

She handed him the empty cup, exhausted and gingerly settled into the creaky cot.

"Charles? Charles was here."

"He operated on you, with Hawkeye."

She rubbed her eyes and drew a blank. "God, I don't remember."

"What happened was you almost got your fool self killed right in the middle of my compound, that's what happened! Ruined my whole evening!" Col. Potter said from behind B.J. He squeezed Jessie's knee fondly.

She smiled weakly. "Well, it's not exactly the kind of evening I planned, either."

They were interrupted by a gaggle of voices.

"Jess! Jess!" the nurses squealed as they rushed into post-op. Jessie found herself surrounded. B.J. and Col. Potter slipped out of the way before they were engulfed by excited females.

"Girl, you scared us half to death! Don't you do anything like that on us again!"

"You know, Major Winchester saved your life. You were a goner, from what I've heard. I think it was very brave of you, though, to do what you did."

"I guess you'll get some sort of medal, the Purple Heart or something.

Jessie had a hard time keeping up with the chatter, so she just smiled and nodded.

Radar groggily awoke from all the commotion. The first tendrils of panic infiltrated his sleep-deprived brain at the sight of all the nurses around Jessie's bed. He struggled with his glasses, then saw Col. Potter and B.J. standing at the foot of it, smiling. At Radar's confused look, Col. Potter clapped his hands at the bunch.

"OK, women, OK! I think Jessie has had about as much excitement as she can stand! Vamoose before I put you all to work!"

With parting shouts of encouragement, the nurses noisily left post-op, leaving Jessie looking dazed.

"Jess."

The sound of her name startled her, and she looked at Radar, not expecting him to be awake.

He slid from the cot and fell to his knees next to her.

Sitting up gingerly, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. She didn't even care that it hurt like hell when he squeezed her in return.

When she pulled away, they both had tears in their eyes.

She chuckled. "Boy, what a sight we are."

He took her hands in his. "I can't believe you're OK because just a few hours ago, you were . . don't you ever do anything like that again!"

Jessie squeezed his hands. "You know, when I woke up, bits and pieces came back to me. I thought something bad had happened to you."

"You don't remember?" he asked, a little incredulously.

Jessie shook her head, and Radar turned around to look at B.J. and Col. Potter questioningly.

B.J. cleared his throat. "That's not uncommon. It could all come back, or you may not ever remember what happened. It's a way the body deals with it."

Radar seemed satisfied with that answer and turned to face Jessie. "You don't remember what you did at all? Are you sure?"

Jessie started to take a deep breath, which hurt, so she stopped. She told him what she could recall. "I remember the dance and going to my tent. Then, I remember seeing Yung Lee and a gun and knife." She self-consciously put her hand on her neck, still feeling the steel eating into her skin.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall. "You came out there next and tried to talk her out of the gun. There was a jeep, too, but I don't remember where it came from." She opened her eyes. "I remember blood, too, lots of it. I didn't know whose it was."

"I t-tried to talk her into giving me the gun. I honestly thought you were out of danger, or I would have left her alone!" Radar said vehemently, wiping at his eyes.

Jessie squeezed his hand. "I walked between you and the gun, didn't I?" she said, almost in a whisper, wincing with the remembered impact of the bullet hitting her chest.

Radar nodded, still trying to stop his tears from falling.

"What happened to Yung Lee?"

"She took off in the jeep," Col. Potter said. "But, damned if Klinger didn't siphon most of the gas out of it, so she didn't get far. MPs caught up with her three miles down the road. Guess it's on the way to the stockade for her."

Jessie almost felt sorry for the girl. _Almost_. She carefully rubbed the bandage on her chest. "Has good aim, doesn't she?"

Radar looked down at his hands, remembering the flow of blood all too well. "Hawkeye and Major Winchester and Major Houlihan operated on you." He paused and took a ragged breath. "I think it was the longest hour of my life."

Jessie remembered when Radar had been injured months before. He wasn't exaggerating

She gingerly rubbed her shoulder. "Well, no wonder I feel like I've been hit by a tank. Wait . . .what about my family?"

"I wired them last night after the surgery. Told them you were injured in camp, but was going to recover just fine," Col. Potter said, chuckling. "Your father was hell-bent on getting you sent to the finest facility in Tokyo. But, your brother intervened. He said you were better off here with friends than alone in some fancy hospital."

Jessie smiled weakly at the thought of Johnny fighting to keep her at the 4077th, especially after he fought so hard to keep her from going in the first place.

Col. Potter reached over and squeezed Radar's shoulder. "I think we better let her get some sleep. Plus, I'm swamped in paperwork, and Klinger's not much help."

Radar studied Jessie intently. "Will you be OK?" he asked as Jessie settled back into the pillows.

"I promise, I'll be OK."

Reluctantly, he let go of Jessie's hands. "I'll come back and check on you," he said, standing up.

"I'm sure you will," B.J. said, leading the Corporal away.

Radar kept looking back over his shoulder at Jessie, but she was already asleep.

*********************************************

Radar sat alone in the mess tent, wearily sipping a cup of coffee. The camp was quiet as the moonlight streamed into the tent. It was past midnight, and he had tried to sleep. But, nightmares had woken him more than once. While he couldn't quite remember exactly what they were about, he could remember all the blood. Always squeamish around blood, he shuddered.

Thank goodness it wasn't the same nightmare he had had for months.

The door squeaked on its hinges.

_I really need to get that door fixed_, Radar thought to himself, not turning to look who entered.

B.J. got himself a cup of coffee and sat down in front of Radar. They sat silent for a few moments.

"Long day, huh?" B.J. asked.

Radar nodded.

B.J. took another sip. "Did she eat?"

Radar brightened slightly. "She woke up at supper time hungry as a horse. She was even glad to eat some of the stuff from the mess tent, so you know she had to be hungry. She already seems to be getting better faster than I thought she would."

B.J. chuckled as he took another sip. "Not even a North Korean bullet will keep her down for long. A imagine she gets it honest, since her father and brother have not stopped hounding Col. Potter all day."

Radar rolled his eyes. Almost once an hour, a Callahan would call, demanding an update on Jessie. "They finally got to speak to her tonight. I guess that made them feel better because they didn't call back. They'll start up again tomorrow, I'm sure."

They stayed silent for a few more minutes. "So, how're you fairing?"

Radar stared into his coffee cup. Remembering the nightmares, he shuddered. "I've tried to sleep, but I keep thinking about what happened. Then, I dream about it."

"I'm sure if I saw Peg gunned down, I wouldn't sleep for a month." He reached over and patted Radar's arm. "But, you need to get some sleep. I have a feeling this place would fall down around our ears without you to run it."

Radar chuckled. "Oh, no, sir, I'm sure it won't," he replied modestly, then cleared his throat. "I also keep thinking about – other things."

"What other things?" B.J. asked. He had a pretty good idea what they were.

Radar continued. "Right after . . . it happened, when everyone was running around, and I was sitting there holding her and she was so still and so pale-" He swallowed at the memory.

B.J. waited for him to go on.

Radar shook his head and continued. "And then while she was in surgery, and all I had to do was wait and wait, not knowing if she would live or die-" He stopped and took a ragged breath. "I know I love her. But, I didn't realize I love her _that_ much. I kept promising God anything just so she wouldn't die." He looked at B.J. "It's kinda scary."

B.J. crossed his arms in front of him. "You know, it seems to me you shouldn't be telling me this. But, I have a feeling she already feels the same way."

"You think so, sir?" Radar said, brow furrowing. "How?"

"Well, do you think she would have walked between you and that gun if she didn't?" B.J. said. He rose and clapped Radar on the back as he walked out the door. "Get some sleep."

Radar remained where he was, thinking about what B.J. had said.


	24. Chapter 24

The post-op ward was quiet, the only sound the even breathing of those in various stages of recuperation. One of the nurses on loan from the 8063rd was at the desk. The small lamp she used did little to break the darkness in the room. A soldier with a leg wound near her moaned, and she looked up from her paperwork before resuming her scribbling. The sound of laughter wafted in from the compound, but it didn't disturb any of the patients.

Charles took all of this in from the side of Jessie's bed. Since Radar had decided to finally get some sleep, Charles had taken up watch from the same chair the company clerk refused to vacate throughout the entire day.

_I'm on duty anyway. It's a slow night. Just doing my job_, he kept telling himself as he propped his feet on the side of Jessie's cot, careful not to disturb her sleeping form. He rubbed his eyes wearily against the dull ache. He had missed seeing her while she was awake due to the fact he had guzzled the entire still dry. Not only had he almost panicked during surgery, but the emotions that he had been trying to keep at bay since last night had him in a constant state of turmoil.

So, he attempted to erase it all with bad booze.

Bad mistake.

Funny, she had asked for him, or so he had been told. But, not before she asked for Radar. Of course.

_And why did it even matter?_

Charles focused on her. Her drug-induced sleep kept her from moving around. But, even in sleep, her fingers clenched the scratchy, Army-issue blanket, and she whimpered slightly. Charles reached over and touched her hand, hoping to let her know someone was there.

Absently, he rubbed her hand with his thumb. If she were in Boston, he would make sure she had the finest care available – the best doctors, the best medicine. He would never have let her into this hell hole with the disease and blood and endless gore, and he silently cursed her father for not doing something to stop her. The sudden urge to whisk her away from the horrors of Korea took his breath away.

"Major?"

Charles jumped, thankful for the diversion, and let go of her hand.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Charles instantly composed himself, not wanting the nurse to see his distress.

"I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want any?" she whispered.

Charles shook his head. For the life on him, he couldn't remember the woman's name. "No, but thank you, Lieutenant."

The nurse softly exited the post-op ward, leaving Charles alone again with his thoughts. He leaned back in the old chair with a sigh, settling in to another hour of avoiding what was really on his mind and shut his eyes for just a moment.

He didn't notice Jessie stir.

"Charles?" she whispered softly. Too much effort, and she hurt all over. She tried to take a deep breath, the after-effects of her nightmare making her heart beat wildly, but instead she winced at the pain. She would have sworn he had been there . . .

Charles jumped up so fast, his head throbbed. Gingerly, he sat on the edge of her cot. "I'm right here." He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face and rubbed her cheek softly with his finger.

Jessie opened her eyes at his touch, momentarily wondering where she was. She tried to focus on him. "I'm scared."

"You're fine. Nothing's going to harm you, baby." _Huh?_ _Baby? _

Jessie didn't seem to notice his term of endearment. The pain medication took over, and she drifted off. "I'm glad you're here," she mumbled, fumbling for his other hand and squeezing it. With a small sigh, she was asleep again.

Charles linked her fingers with his. For once, he was glad he was in Korea, too.

**********************************

Charles didn't hear Margaret come into the room, making sure the new nurse was working out to her satisfaction. She spotted him hovering over Jessie's bed, stroking her cheek gently with the back of his finger.

"He's been right there the entire shift," the nurse said, following Margaret's gaze.

"Has there been any problems?"

"No, ma'am. But, I don't think you could convince him of that."

As quietly as possible, she walked down the aisle and stood behind him. He didn't acknowledge her presence. Gingerly, she sat in the chair nearby.

The more she thought about it, the more it dawned on her.

"She's going to be just fine."

"There's still infection and shock and . . ." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Knowing what can happen doesn't make it any easier."

"But, she has the best doctors in Korea. Including you."

He wiped his eyes. "She shouldn't even be here, Margaret."

"None of us should. We just make the best of it."

Charles settled on the floor, never letting go of Jessie's limp hand. He pressed it to his lips, holding it there for a moment. "Margaret, I can't . . . I can't do this."

"I saw you in OR. I know."

He looked at her. "Is it that obvious?"

"You looked so . . . so sick while we were scrubbing up, B.J., Hawkeye and I briefly discussed taking over. But, you were so determined to be there, we couldn't see making you leave."

He closed his eyes, trying to chase away the scene. "She . . . she risked her life for him. That's something . . . when it comes down to it, I don't know if I could do for anyone. But, she did. For him."

Margaret chose her words carefully. "Sometimes you'll be surprised what you would do when the situation arises." She squirmed slightly in the chair. "Does she know?"

Carefully, he laid her hand back on the cot. "How can I bring what I feel to her attention when I don't even know what it is myself?"

*******************************************

Jessie sat upright.

_Something's wrong . ._ .

She glanced around the dark post-op area that had been her temporary home for three days. It was full, thanks to a squadron of North Koreans trying to take a nearby hill whose Army-labeled number escaped her. Jessie hated not being able to help and resorted to using a wheelchair to get around the room to comfort where she could, despite Radar's protests. And Charles's. It wore her out. But she wasn't going to let them know.

Gone was the simple banter she and Charles enjoyed with each other. In its place was a pensive silence, only broken when he tried to coax her to eat or sleep. Many times, she woke in the middle of the night to find him sitting by her bed, keeping watch. Strangely enough, it was comforting, despite how unusual it was.

He had certainly been acting odd lately, even more protective than Radar. From Radar, she expected it. But, from Charles . . .

_There! There it is again!_ Warily, Jessie looked at the soldier in the bed next to her. Glancing around the room, she saw Kelleye sitting at the desk across the room with a patient's file. Bigelow was on the other side, checking vital signs. She watched him until she heard it again.

_He's not breathing right, Callahan. Do something!_

Struggling from the blanket, Jessie crawled out of the cot and fell beside his bed, flinching as her ribs throbbed. She checked his pulse at his neck.

"Jess, what on earth are you doing?" Bigelow knelt down beside her.

"Sara! Something's blocking his airway!"

The wounded boy's condition worsened before their eyes. Before they knew it, he was gasping desperately for breath, flailing about in panic.

"Kelleye! Go get B.J.!" Bigelow yelled.

But, Kelleye was already gone.

They tried to keep him calm, but couldn't. Jessie ducked as one arm flew over her head. Bigelow tried to grab his other arm and hold him down, but couldn't catch it.

Desperate for air and unaware of his actions, he grabbed the front of Jessie's shirt.

Jessie cried out as his fingers dug into her bandages. She tried to fight him, but it just made him thrash even harder. Excruciating pain dulled her senses as she struggled to breathe. Voices seemed far off, and her vision became fuzzy as she fought to remain conscious.

She didn't notice a hand reach out and grab the wrist of the terrified boy, wrenching her out of his grasp. Vastly relieved that he had let go, but not fully understanding why, she tried to shrink away, but couldn't make her limbs function properly. Instead, she remained on the floor breathing unsteadily, trying not to be sick.

"Charles, are you crazy? You hurt him!" B.J. reached for the tracheotomy tools that Kelleye had provided as he glared at his bunkmate.

Ignoring B.J., Charles picked Jessie up into a standing position, holding her against himself as the other doctor worked.

She leaned gratefully against his chest, breathing hard, letting him hold all her weight as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Thinking she was hearing her own heart pounding in her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be calm. She realized it was Charles's heart thumping wildly.

He couldn't formulate any words of comfort. All he wanted to do was hold her, making sure she would be protected. She seemed so small and frail . . . _dangerous territory._

Reluctantly, he sat her down on her cot, kneeling in front of her, forcing himself to think clinically and not emotionally. Thinking emotionally never got him anywhere.

Jessie saw the blood on the front of his shirt, and her breath caught in her throat. She looked down at her own shirt, and then their eyes met. Wordlessly, he began undoing her bandages on her upper chest, fingers shaking slightly.

She winced. "Charles?"

"You're fine. You'll be just fine."

To her, he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

Neither one noticed that B.J. had finished the trach, and the wounded man was breathing without distress through a tube in his neck.

B.J. stalked towards them.

"Charles, if you ever touch one of my patients again, I'll have you arrested!"

Charles continued checking her bandages. "Hunnicutt, if one of your patients even looks at another of mine, I will personally hold you accountable. And, I will _not_ be accountable for what I will do to you if you don't _back off_," he growled.

Jessie's eyes pled for B.J. to stop, but he wouldn't look at her.

Bigelow stepped back as the other wounded in post-op propped themselves on their elbows, curious to the continuous midnight racket.

"Oh, is that so? Well, buster, you better stand up and show me what you'll do! If his arm's broken, I'm going to kick you into the next war!"

Charles's furious eyes met Jessie's. She touched his wrist. "He doesn't mean it."

She gasped when B.J. grabbed the back of Charles's shirt and tried to haul him from the floor. Charles jerked out of the other man's grasp, standing up to face his angry bunkmate.

"Don't touch me ever again, you boorish imbecile! If you could operate on your patients correctly the first time, we wouldn't even _be_ in this position!"

B.J. swung clumsily at Charles, but he jumped to the side, getting hit in the shoulder. Jessie struggled to stand as cheers and jeers echoed around the room.

B.J. wasn't as fast as Charles, and Charles's left hook connected, sending B.J. sprawling across the bed of one of the wounded soldiers.

Jessie gasped, despite the sharp pain it caused and stood, backing out of the way.

_He never fights . . ._

Charles reached down to pick B.J. up by the collar.

"Don't you _ever_ threaten me . . ."

Jessie and Bigelow looked at each other, then wormed their way between the two.

"What in the name of hell's bells is going on in here?" Col. Potter roared, Kelleye hot on his heels.

He took in the scene in front of him. A pale Jessie had her back against Charles, pushing him back for all she was worth. Bigelow was tugging on B.J.'s arm, insisting on looking at his busted lip, hoping to distract him.

Everyone started talking at once.

"His patient . . ."

"He hit . . ."

"It was . . ."

"Shut up! All of you!"

Obediently, they complied.

Col. Potter pointed at Jessie. "Take care of her, Winchester! Then, report to my office pronto!"

He pointed at B.J. and Bigelow. "You and you, come with me!"

Her momentary burst of adrenaline left her drained, and Jessie sank to her cot, head swimming. Kelleye appeared with new bandages and started to change her dressing, but Charles waved her away. Without arguing, she complied, retreating towards the other side of the room as Charles resumed her job.

Jessie struggled for something to say. "Do I need more stitches?"

"I don't think so," he answered curtly. Jessie sucked in a breath when he hit a particularly painful spot. "Morphine?"

Jessie shook her head, fighting tears. "No. No more. It gives me bad dreams."

Charles shrugged, hoping to appear disinterested. Truthfully, he didn't trust himself to speak.

He had followed B.J. from the Swamp when Kelleye breathlessly told them about the soldier in post-op, despite another hangover from another night of trying to forget. When he walked inside and saw Jessie struggling against the poor man's grasp, he snapped. Reacting to her cry, he didn't even know what came over him.

He just knew he had to save her.

He couldn't stop her from walking in front of that bullet that almost killed her, but he damn sure could save her now.

He could feel her eyes on him as he worked. He didn't want her sympathy. Or anyone else's for that matter. All he wanted was to have some shred of sanity remaining for when this war was over and he could leave all this behind.

"Jessamyn?"

"Hmmm?"

"I never . . . never thanked you. For helping me. With the pills. I just realized that I never showed any appreciation for what you did. For letting me . . . for singing."

The throbbing in her chest had subsided only slightly, and she still felt disoriented. Finally, she understood. "I didn't mind. Really."

He nodded, continuing to tighten the bandages around her ribs.

When he was done, he sat back. "Now, Lieutenant, no more nursing. Next time, get someone's attention if a patient is in trouble."

Jessie saw the slight tremor in his fingers when he pulled away, despite the forced light tone to his voice. Resolutely, she reached out and took his hand in both of hers.

"Look at me. Please."

Her hands were soft and warm. Everything he remembered them to be. Resolutely, he met her eyes, filled with concern for him despite her pain.

"Are you OK? I've never seen you . . . seen you like that before."

"I'm not the one bleeding, Lieutenant." His voice wavered only slightly. He clenched his jaw, determined not to let her get to him.

Hesitantly, Jessie reached out and touched his unshaven cheek.

Charles shut his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Emotions he had no right to feel pulsed through his veins at her compassionate touch.

"Charles? Your hands are shaking . . ."

He didn't let her finish. Instead, he removed her hand, lightly kissing her fingers before laying it in her lap.

"I'm just fine, Jessamyn. I apologize for my . . . outburst. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pay the piper, I suppose. Now, get some sleep. And that's an order."

He gave her a small smile.

She didn't return it.

Jessie watched him walk across the darkened post-op and speak to Kelleye briefly before leaving. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, wondering when her world started spinning out of control.


	25. Chapter 25

"Quiet! All of you just shut your yaps!" Col. Potter pointed at Bigelow. "You! Were you in there the entire time?"

Bigelow nodded her head, curls bouncing.

"Then, _you_ tell me what happened!" He pointed at Charles and B.J. who were eyeing each other suspiciously from across the small office. "You two, butt out!"

Bigelow quietly told the Colonel the details, trying not to leave anything out.

He listened intently until she concluded, then sat back in his chair.

"Both of you are more than welcome to press charges against the other." He pointed at Charles. "Since B.J. thought one of his patients was threatened . . ."

Charles stepped forward. "As was one of mine!"

He held up his hand for silence. "Let me finish, Major." He pointed at B.J. "And since you threw the first punch, I suppose both of you have a case. Goodness knows that me and Radar have enough work to do as it is, and the last thing I need is two of my doctors taking punches at each other in post-op! This isn't a boxing ring, it's a hospital! You're both grown adults, so act like it! Now, are you going to press charges or not?" His stern gaze went from one surgeon to the other.

B.J. sighed. "No, I guess not, Colonel."

Colonel Potter looked at Charles. "What about you?"

"Well, if Hunnicutt can put aside his differences, then I believe I can do so, as well."

"A simple no would have sufficed, Major." He rose from his chair. "OK, I want the two of you to shake hands." He motioned. "Shake like you mean it, or I'll press charges myself."

Reluctantly, B.J. held out his hand. Charles took it and shook it firmly.

Bigelow tried not to giggle at their sour expressions.

Col. Potter smiled. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Now, Lieutenant, take the Captain here to look at his lip. He's bleeding all over my office! Then both of you get back to post-op." He pointed at Charles. "You stay here just a minute, Major. I need to have a word with you."

After the two had left, he motioned for Charles to sit.

"No, thank you, sir, I'd rather stand."

"I said sit. So _sit_!"

With a resigned sigh, Charles settled into a chair.

Col. Potter sat on the corner of his desk, eyeing him.

"Well?" Charles said.

"Winchester, I hope you know what you're doing."

"Sir?"

He motioned towards the door. "I have a company clerk that can't sleep because she took a bullet for him. Had to give him something just to get him down for the night."

"And that concerns me . . . how?"

Col. Potter crossed his arms. "Don't get snippy with me, Major. I'm just telling you to not put your nose in where it doesn't belong."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you have to worry about that. The last thing I want to do is get involved in any sort of attachment with anyone in this hellhole."

"I think you're more involved than you think."

"Oh? How do you figure?"

"Hold out your hand."

Charles blanched, knowing where the Colonel was going. "Sir, that's preposterous!"

"Just do it, Major."

Reluctantly, Charles held out his right hand, immediately putting it down as the Colonel noticed the unsteadiness in his fingers.

"Do you want me to turn her over to Pierce?"

Charles opened his mouth to protest. Instead, he thought about his promise to himself when he was drafted.

_Don't get involved. With anyone_.

Seemed smart at the time. And perfectly reasonable.

He let out a breath. "Fine, Colonel. You do what you think you need to do." He wearily rose to his feet. "Are we finished here?"

Col. Potter nodded. "I'll tell Pierce."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"Major?"

Charles rolled his eyes before he turned around to face the CO. "Yes?"

Col. Potter's gaze softened. "I know you came here with the idea that none of us would get close to you. It's OK that she did."

Charles didn't acknowledge the comment. Instead, he pushed his way through the double doors, heart pounding in his ears. Automatically, he turned to go into post-op with the idea of checking on her, but spotted Radar on the cot underneath the window.

He had slept through the entire episode.

And, she wasn't his to worry about anymore, anyway.

_She never was yours to begin with, you idiot_.

Cursing, Charles turned around and stomped into the bleak compound.

*****************************************

Kelleye made her way to Jessie's cot. She was lying on her back, wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Jess, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She struggled into a sitting position. "Just wired, I suppose."

"Do you need anything?" she eyed Jessie's bloodied shirt. "How 'bought a clean shirt?"

"Thanks."

"You want anything else?"

"A new brain, perhaps?"

Kelleye laughed aloud and covered her mouth with her hand as one of the wounded soldiers stirred. "Next time, just say something. You made it look like Bigelow and I weren't doing our jobs," she whispered.

Jessie ran her hands through her tangled hair. "I know, I know, Kelleye, and I'm sorry. All this crazy medication is making me nuts. That bullet dislodged more than my ribs, apparently."

Kelleye settled on the corner of Jessie's cot. "That's OK. We'd have probably done the same thing."

"Make sure Bigelow knows I apologized in case I don't see her."

Kelleye waved her hand in the air. "Oh, you know her. She's just glad she got to see the whole thing. Now, she'll have something to talk about at breakfast in the morning." She leaned in closer. "I can't believe he actually hit him!"

Jessie sighed. "Me, either."

"What do you think Colonel Potter will do?"

"He's pretty good about making all of us get along. Plus, Charles and B.J. have to live together."

"Maybe he'll appoint Hawkeye as their chaperone."

"Now, there's a turn of events! Hawkeye as the middle man and not the instigator!"

They had to giggle at the thought, Jessie trying not to wince as her ribs throbbed.

"I'm just surprised Major Winchester reacted like he did. He was so furious, it was downright scary. I thought for a minute he was really going to hurt the poor man."

Jessie looked at the cot next to her. "How is he, by the way?"

"Oh, Captain Hunnicutt said his neck was swollen from his wounds. When the swelling goes down, he can breathe on his own."

"Charles didn't . . . didn't hurt him? Did he?"

Kelleye shook her head. "He might have a sore arm in the morning, but with his other injuries, he probably won't even notice it. Or remember what happened."

Jessie looked relieved. "Oh, good! B.J. was so angry, I thought Charles had actually broken his arm!"

"Glad he didn't. Too much damn paperwork as it is." Col. Potter sauntered towards the pair.

Kelleye jumped up. "Getting back to work, sir."

Col. Potter nodded. He studied Jessie's chart on the end of the bed, making a few notations.

"How're you feeling?"

"Sore. Like a pincushion in a pharmaceutical factory. Other than that, just peachy."

Col. Potter chuckled. "You gave Winchester quite a scare. You need your rest, or you won't ever get back on your feet."

She was feeling tired, come to think of it.

"Just wanted to let you know that I've pulled Winchester. Hawkeye'll be looking after you from now on."

Jessie's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Col. Potter hung the chart back on the hook. "I think you know, Lieutenant."

Jessie thought of the look in Charles's eyes and the tremor in his hands.

_Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?_

_****************************************************_

"I thought post-op was bad when I was on duty! Imagine having to live there!"

Radar patted Jessie's hand sympathetically, which was linked through his arm, but remained silent. They walked slowly across the compound in the bright sunshine. Jessie shielded her face with her hand, watching the day-to-day activities. It was good to be out.

They stopped to watch the nurses playing softball for a moment.

"So, what did you have to do to bust me out of there? Hawkeye doesn't own your soul, does he?"

Radar chuckled. "I convinced them that you would make their lives awful if you didn't get out of post-op for a little while. But, I did have to promise that I wouldn't let you get too tired." He looked over at her. "You aren't too tired, are you?"

"Nah," she lied. Jessie had been stuck in a cot for days, and she was about to go a little crazy. "Playing cards with the other wounded only entertains a girl so much."

"I heard you cleaned them out." Radar steered her back towards post-op.

"Yeah, I guess I used the fact that they hadn't seen a woman in weeks to my advantage. Even one wrapped up like a mummy that hasn't showered in a couple of days." She scratched at her bandages.

"You're still beautiful to me," Radar said, matter-of-factly, steering her around a mud puddle.

Jessie squeezed his arm. "Even wearing your clothes?" She couldn't wear her own uniforms because of the bandages around her chest. So, she had to settle for Radar's shirts, since they were a little larger.

"I think they look much better on you."

At the sound of Jessie's laughter, he sent up another silent prayer that she hadn't been taken from him.

"I heard about B.J. and Major Winchester getting into a fight the other night. Did he really punch B.J.?"

"Yeah, but he didn't mean it. He was just . . . just protecting me, I guess. He got a little carried away."

She didn't notice Radar watching her closely. He had heard what had happened, second-hand of course. But, something kept gnawing at the edge of his senses, telling him he was missing something – something important.

Jessie did realize that he was sending her back to post-op. She stopped her slow walk. "You think I could sit out here for a bit, _Doctor_ O'Reilly?"

He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know . . ."

Jessie batted her eyelashes at him for effect, and he grinned. "Promise to let me know the minute you get too tired?"

Jessie crossed her heart with her free hand. "I promise," she said solemnly.

Reluctantly, he helped her onto a bench outside his office. Jessie patted the seat next to her, and he settled beside her, automatically taking her hand. From their spot, they had a direct view of the compound.

Jessie leaned her head on his shoulder. "I've heard you haven't been sleeping much."

She felt his back stiffen. "Who told you that?"

"Several people."

"I told them not to tell!"

"You've been so worried about me lately. Why can't I worry about you?" She noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes when he came to visit her, and outside, the weariness on his face was more prominent. She squeezed his arm.

Radar sighed wearily and rubbed his face. "Every time I shut my eyes, I keep replaying that night . . ." He shivered in the bright sunshine and held Jessie tighter. "It's almost gotten to where I'm afraid to go to sleep."

Jessie chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Now, I'm not Sidney Freeman or anything, but I think that's probably normal. Remember me and the little girl?"

Radar nodded mutely.

"I still have those dreams. Actually, I've been having them the past few nights. Sidney told me they would always be with me." She paused. "I know it won't stop the dreams or anything, but I'm fine now." She wrapped her arms around him.

Radar squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that threatened as he rested his chin on the top of her head. "I really don't think any of us will be fine until we leave this place. Or even after we leave, for that matter._" _There was no way he would tell her about the nightmares he had _before_ she was hurt. He'd keep that to himself.

"It is all a little surreal, isn't it?" Jessie straightened, wincing a little from the pain in her ribs. "I mean, did you actually think a few years ago that you'd be living in this place?" She gestured around the camp.

"No kiddin'," Radar said, chuckling a little.

They sat in silence for a moment before he pulled out a letter and handed it to Jessie.

She studied the unfamiliar handwriting.

"It's from my mom. When I opened up a package from home, it was in there." He glanced over at Jessie. "You know, she actually sent the package air mail?"

Jessie turned to envelope over. "Does she know?"

Radar nodded. "Yeah, she knows. I . . . called her after it happened."

"Do you know what it says?"

"No."

Jessie cut her eyes at him. "Are you _sure_? You know, it didn't pop open mysteriously or anything, did it?"

Radar pursed his lips. "Yes, I'm _sure_."

Jessie patted him on the knee. "Lighten up O'Reilly. I was just kiddin'."

"Yeah, I know." _I just haven't felt like kidding lately_. "Listen, will you be alright for a few minutes? Col. Potter wanted me to check on Sophie for him."

"I'll be right here."

Radar kissed her forehead before he headed towards the makeshift stables, leaving Jessie studying the old-fashioned handwriting on the envelope. Curious, she tore into it. Inside was a lone sheet of paper.

_Dear Jessamyn,_

_I know you usually go by Jessie, but I like your given name. I had an aunt once named Jessamyn, and she insisted we call her that. She always wore these old dresses with slacks underneath when she was working outside. She was from Texas, too, or maybe it was Oklahoma. _

At least Jessie knew where Radar got his tendency to go off on a rant. She continued reading.

_For months, Walter has been telling me about you. I feel like I know you as much as I would someone I have met and known for years! I can tell how much he cares for you just by reading his letters. He even sent me pictures of the two of you. But I have to admit, I was a little skeptical about wartime romances. And, I would hate for him to have his heart broken if he found out that you didn't love him as much as he loves you. That happens sometimes in places like where both of you are._

_When he called me today and told me about what happened and what you did, at first I was relieved that he wasn't hurt. But, then I realized something. He's hurting just as much as if he had been hurt. I cannot imagine what it must have been like. I also now have no doubt that you love Walter just as much as he loves you. It takes a special woman with a lot of courage to do what you did. Thank you, Jessamyn, for keeping him safe. I'll pray each day that you get better and that all of you will come home soon. I look forward to meeting you._

_God bless,_

_Edna O'Reilly_

Jessie re-read the letter one more time before folding it carefully and putting it back in the envelope.

Although she and Radar had not really discussed that evening, she had sensed a shift in their relationship. From the beginning, Jessie had never doubted that he loved her. She loved him, too.

However, ever since she walked between him and the gun, there was a new dimension. The fact that they almost lost each other seemed to affect both of them greatly. Did she want a future without him? They had not once discussed any plans for after the war. Korea was all they lived and breathed, but one day it would be over. Hopefully sooner than later. And then what?

Radar startled her when he sat back down next to her.

"Read your letter?"

Jessie took it out of her shirt pocket. "Yeah. Wanna read it?"

He looked momentarily curious, then shook his head. "Nah, it's probably girl stuff." He patted her on the knee. "So, you ready to go back?"

Jessie made a face. "Not really. But, I guess I have to eventually, don't I?"

"You'll be better soon. Then, you'll be wishing you were still in bed."

"You're probably right. Grass is always greener, I suppose."

Radar stood and helped Jessie gingerly to her feet. After a momentary bout of dizziness, she leaned on his arm heavily as they slowly made their way across the compound.

*******************************************

Radar lay on his cot, his arm thrown over his eyes.

W_hy couldn't he sleep?_

Almost a week of restless tossing and turning was taking its toll. His work was suffering. Major Houlihan had already yelled at him twice for forgetting to order supplies that she wanted, and even Col. Potter was beginning to lose patience. It seemed like all day long he fought exhaustion, but when it came time for him to collapse in his cot, the nightmares started. Most of time, they were garbled and confusing, and they even started off innocently enough. But, they always ended the same. Lots and lots of blood.

The only bright spots in his day were visiting Jessie. B.J. and Hawkeye were right. She was getting better much faster than he would have thought. The sight of her cheered him up enough to believe that everything would be OK. But, then he'd try to sleep again and knew that everything would never be the same.

_And what's the deal with Major Winchester?_

The strumming of a guitar interrupted his thoughts. _Where in the world was that coming from?_ Wearily, he rose from his creaky cot and cautiously peaked into the post-op ward. A soldier with bandages over his eyes was picking at a worn-looking guitar. Jessie, sitting cross-legged in the cot next to him, was singing along softly.

The other wounded in post-op were enchanted. The on-duty staff had even stopped to listen. Quietly, Radar opened the door and stepped inside, unseen. The sound of Jessie's voice always managed to calm his fears. He watched her closely as she sang along with the unseeing soldier. It sounded like a lullaby, and it had managed to bring quite a few of the tough-looking wounded soldiers to shed a few tears.

Radar felt like shedding a few tears of his own. He was torn between several emotions - love, concern, and even anger that someone could hurt her. And anger with himself.

Quietly, he exited post-op.

*******************************************

Jessie looked up in time to see him go. When she and the soldier had finished their song and to the disappointment of their audience, Jessie rose from her spot next to the guitar player, still a little slow from the pain in her ribs.

Instead of returning to her cot, she motioned towards Kelleye. "I'll be right back."

Kelleye looked uncertain. "I don't know . . ."

"C'mon, Kelleye. I'm getting out of here tomorrow. Getting a breath of fresh air won't hurt anything."

"Oh, alright. But, be careful! Col. Potter won't be happy if he knows I let you leave."

Jessie saluted her, which made them both giggle.

Softly, Jessie opened the door that separated post-op from Col. Potter's office. The only light in the room was from a lamp on Radar's desk. After giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, she spotted him, his back to the door, hunched over his desk, thumbing idly through a stack of papers.

"Should you be up?" he asked without turning around, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

"Well, since Hotlips is putting me back to work tomorrow, I don't see why it would hurt anything."

Radar didn't respond.

Sighing, Jessie walked to him and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaning her cheek on his back. "I wish you'd talk to me." He didn't respond, so she continued. "Is it the dreams, still?"

He shook his head. "No. Yes. I don't know." He took her hands in his and kissed them. Jessie could feel the wetness on his cheeks.

"You know something your mom said to me in the letter?"

"What?"

"She said that she felt like you were hurting just as much as I was physically. Although I'm healing, I don't think you are." Jessie took a deep breath, trying not to wince. "You can't keep going like this."

She could feel him trying to compose himself enough to speak, so she waited patiently.

"I-I almost lost you, Jess. I've never . . . never actually _seen_ someone I loved hurt . . . like that. It's hard . . for me to deal with. Especially . . ." He shook his head.

Jessie held him tighter. "Especially what?"

"Especially since it's my fault."

Jessie suspected all along what was going through his mind. "None of it's your fault. Deep down inside, you know that, too."

He struggled out of her grasp and turned around to face her. "But, I didn't go with you to your tent! And then instead of letting Yung Lee leave after she let you go, I didn't. And she shot you!"

Jessie put both hands on his face and leaned her forehead against his, making him look at her. "First of all, I walk around this compound by myself all the time. We didn't know that would happen. Even if you did go, both of us could be dead." He flinched at her last word but Jessie continued. "Second, you were just trying to help a scared, frightened girl. If you hadn't of tried to talk her out of the gun, she still could have snatched me back up and stuck me in that jeep bound for Communist City, North Korea. You. Did. Nothing. Wrong. Neither did I. Really, neither just Yung Lee. It's just war, and crappy things happen in war."

Radar wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. "My mind keeps playing these what-ifs . . ."

"Forget the what-ifs," she interrupted. "I'm alright. You're alright. Nothing else matters. Except one thing."

"Wh-what's that?"

"I haven't had a real shower in a week. I wouldn't stay too close for too long, if I were you."

She was rewarded with a chuckle.

"I haven't had a real shower since I left home."

It was Jessie's turn to laugh.

Radar straightened up, and Jessie wiped a few tears from his face with her fingers.

"I love you, you know?"

"I know. I love you, too."

That night, Radar had his first uninterrupted sleep in a week.

******************************

Everyone now . . . aaaaaawwwwww! So sweet!


	26. Chapter 26

FYI - Yes, this does reference "The Light that Failed." I know it was earlier in the series, but I'm also going to reference "Changing of the Clerks", too. So, humor me a bit.

Also, it was mentioned way earlier in the series that Radar had a brother. Gave him his bear, if I'm not mistaken. But, that was conveniently left out when he went home on the series. I'm going to take that missing piece of info. and run wild! Hee, hee!

************************************************

The wounded had been incessantly coming without much of a break. Although it had been couple of weeks since Jessie was deemed well enough to leave post-op, she still tired easily. She would try to convince Radar she was fine, but somehow, he never believed her.

Charles also hovered like a mother hen. Her wounds had since heeled to angry red scars, fading to pink, but she had a hard time persuading him that she was feeling much better. Chalking it up to being his patient, Jessie would shrug him off. They were all tired, exhausted beyond disbelief.

That's also what she told herself when Hawkeye and Charles almost came to blows in post-op one evening while she was on duty.

"For once, think about your patient and not yourself!"

Jessie winced at Hawkeye's words as she and the other nurses watched them argue, the other wounded watching in awed silence.

After exchanging a few more harsh comments, Charles slammed into the chilly night. With curt instructions from Hawkeye on caring for the patient Charles had accidentally injected with a muscle relaxer – not morphine – Hawkeye continued with his rounds, muttering under his breath.

Jessie checked her watch and spoke to one of the nurses. "Hey, I'm going for coffee. Want any?"

"Nah, go ahead."

Jessie pulled off her lab coat. Once outside, she stopped to let her eyes adjust to the inky darkness. She wandered around the compound, wondering where he went, not knowing why she wanted to offer a few words of comfort, especially to the one person who acted the most distant.

Finally, she found him. At the motor pool, of all places. He was sitting with his boots planted firmly in the driver's seat. One hand rested casually across his knees while he propped his chin in his hands with the other, staring at his boots.

She approached him cautiously, trying to gauge his mood. She stopped a few feet from the jeep, and still he made no move to recognize her.

"Charles?"

He didn't look at her, continuing to study tops of his boots. "Have you come to berate me as well, Lieutenant?"

Jessie bit her lip. "I just thought . . ."

What exactly _did_ she think? She cleared her throat, rubbing her arm absently with her other hand. "I think Pierce was a little rough on you back there."

"Radar will not be happy to know you're siding with me over Hawkeye. Might lower his esteemed judgment of you."

Jessie ignored his words, knowing by her own experience that they masked a deeper pain that wasn't proper to show. "Hawkeye can be just as bullheaded and a royal snob as you. Funny, because he has no patience for it in others."

Charles finally looked at her. "Is that what you think I am? Bullheaded and a royal snob?"

"At times. But, there's nothing wrong with that, especially if you can back it up with the talent and abilities you have as a surgeon."

"Hawkeye would argue with you on that point."

"Hawkeye could use the competition." Without thinking, Jessie reached out and took his hand. It was rougher than she thought it would be, and she turned it up, softly touching his palm.

It was hard to believe those fingers saved her life.

He watched her intently as she brushed her fingers over the tips of his own.

"We all make mistakes. You just pick yourself up and move on. That's all you can do. But, you have so much talent to give life in these hands. Don't waste it."

Desperate for a compassionate touch, he felt as if someone had let all the air out of his lungs. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed the hair away from her neck. The wound from the knife was almost healed, a puckered scar all that was left.

She didn't pull away from his touch. So, he pulled her against him and kissed her forehead gently. She lifted her chin, and he softly brushed his lips with hers.

Jessie fought the unusual urge to bury her head in his chest and let him protect her from this horrid place they all found themselves in.

Instead, she let him go and walked away, heart pounding within her chest.

Neither one knew they had an audience.

But, Radar was just glad it all made sense to him now.

****************************************

Finally, they got a break when fighting shifted elsewhere. Jessie was glad for the break, planning to sleep for a week.

But, somehow, Radar finagled a three day pass to Seoul from the Colonel for the both of them. Exhaustion disappeared at the thought of a temporary escape from camp. She was packed in less than an hour.

****************************************

Jessie stood precariously on a chair, shaking what was left of a bottle of champagne, her thumb over the opening. "You get near me with that, and I swear, Walter Eugene O'Reilly, I will spray this all in your face!"

Radar was standing behind a loveseat, a bottle of shaving cream in his hands. He faked to the left, and Jessie jumped off the chair, shrieking.

"I still haven't got you back for dumping that cold water on me in the shower," he said. Jessie vaulted over the loveseat and landed on the floor behind it, laughing. Radar snuck near the couch and made his move.

"Ah-ha!" he said, pointing the shaving cream behind the furniture. Jessie wasn't there. "What the . . .?" he said, scratching his head in confusion. A spray of champagne hit him on his back, and he yelped.

Jessie was standing behind him, triumphantly pointing the bottle of him. "Gotcha!" she said smugly.

"Wanna bet?" He pointed the shaving cream at Jessie and fired, but Jessie ducked into the bedroom out of the way, shrieking. Shaving cream went all over the wall. Before she could slam the door, he wedged the shaving cream can in the door.

Her ammunition empty, Jessie let go of the door and jumped on the rumpled bed, grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of her. Radar, leaning hard against the door, fell into the bedroom. He saw Jessie standing defiantly on the bed and laughed.

"Am I supposed to be scared of that?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of him, the shaving cream still in one hand. He pointed the shaving cream can at her, and Jessie yelped, holding the pillow in front of her. But all the can did was spit a few weak sprays onto the floor.

"Ha, now _you're_ out of ammo!" Jessie said, then hit Radar with the pillow right on his arm.

"Oh, yeah?" he said. He lowered his head and tackled Jessie. They fell across the bed, laughing uproariously.

"Hey, shut up over there!" a muffled voice said through the wall. The picture above the bed moved as their disgruntled neighbor banged on the wall.

They got quiet for a moment, then dissolved into laughter again. Jessie tried to stifle her laughter with the pillow.

Radar tossed the pillow aside.

Later, Jessie lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He had his arm wrapped around her and was playing with her hair with one hand. She propped her chin on his chest.

"You know, this has been a good vacation," she said, kissing his cheek. "Thanks for talking Col. Potter into it."

"How'd you know?" he asked incredulously.

Jessie snuggled closer. "I just did," she said. "I'm clairvoyant, you know?"

Radar snorted.

They heard muffled ringing from the living room and both started at the foreign noise. "I guess we have to answer that, don't we?" Radar said, disappointed.

Jessie reached for the phone on her side of the bed, but remembered they had unplugged it two days ago. She made a face, then wrapped a blanket around herself against the chill in the room and stumbled into the sitting room.

She found the phone underneath some cushions from the loveseat. "Hello?" she said, breathlessly.

"For God sakes, girl, I've been trying to call you for the past four hours! Where have you been?" Col. Potter bellowed.

Jessie opened her mouth to answer.

"Never mind, I don't want to know. Listen, you and Radar need to get back to camp pronto."

Jessie was disappointed, but their three days in Seoul were almost up, anyway. "Wounded?" she asked, pulling the blanket tighter around her bare shoulders.

Col. Potter sighed. "I sure wish it was."

Jessie sat up straight. "What's wrong?" She thought fleetingly of Charles and wondered why.

"No," Col. Potter answered tiredly. "Look, I think he needs to hear it from you and not over the phone from me." He paused. "We received a telegram this morning that Radar's Uncle Ed died three days ago. Heart attack. And, his older brother's run off. His mom's on her own."

Jessie sucked in a breath. "Good God," she whispered.

Col. Potter cleared his throat. "There's more. Radar needs to get back here and sign these hardship discharge papers."

Jessie's heart froze.

"Just tell him, and you two get back here on the double," Col. Potter said gruffly, then hung up the phone.

Jessie listened to the dial tone for a second, then softly put the phone back in the cradle. She jumped when Radar touched her shoulder. She turned around and looked into his trusting blue eyes, wishing she could protect him from what she had to tell him.

"Sit down, Walter," she said, patting the seat beside her.

He sat, his eyes never leaving hers. "Is there something wrong at camp?"

There was no easy way to do this. "Your Uncle Ed died of a heart attack three days ago," she blurted out.

Radar's face went pale as Jessie watched. She reached out and took his hand. "I'm so, so sorry."

He took a deep breath to steady himself and squeezed her hand.

She continued. "Your brother's also disappeared again," She stopped, her heart hammering in her chest, then looked away. "Col. Potter wants you to get back to camp to sign a hardship discharge. You'll be home in three days tops."

Radar ran a hand through his hair, soaking in what Jessie had said.

"You're going home," she said. She tried to look happy about it, but the thought of him leaving her in Korea hurt, as selfish as it sounded.

He shook his head. "I-I can't go home," he said, standing up and pacing the room. Jessie watched him, helpless. "Everyone needs me! You know what a terrible clerk Klinger is. In fact, that place is probably already in a shambles! He doesn't know how to do anything!" He stopped pacing and looked at Jessie.

"I can't leave you here, either," he said, sitting down once again next to her. She put her head on his shoulder as they leaned back on the loveseat.

"It's home! It's what we all dream of. And, if you stay here because of me, I'll make your life a living hell!" She poked him in the ribs, trying to lighten the moment, but he just held her closer, breathing in the scent of her.

As much as Jessie wanted to stay right there, she pried herself away from him. "C'mon, let's go pack," she said, pulling him off the loveseat.

***************************************

Radar spent the short ride back to camp telling Jessie stories about his uncle. Although she would laugh at the appropriate parts, her heart wasn't in it. She knew he had to leave, but the thought of him going already made her lonely, although he was sitting next to her.

"You know, I still can't believe he's gone," he would say.

Jessie would squeeze his hand in return, not knowing what to say. She couldn't imagine being this far away from home and someone in her family dying. The thought of it made her homesick.

They arrived in camp late in the evening. He carried her bags to her tent for her.

"You want me to go with you?" she asked, turning before she entered her tent. She couldn't see the look on his face in the dark, but saw him shake his head. He kissed her softly, then disappeared into the night.

Jessie sighed, throwing her bags into her tent. She straightened her coat and went to report to Major Houilihan.

**********************************

"You _what_?" Col. Potter roared.

Radar flinched at his tone. "You heard me, sir, I'm staying," he said softly, looking down at his hands.

"Of all the cockeyed things I've heard, this takes the cake!" Col. Potter huffed. "Look, this war will go on without you. _Go home_!"

Radar shook his head.

"So, what does Jessie have to say about it?" Col. Potter said, peering down at his company clerk.

"I don't have to ask Jessie's permission!" Radar said, staring defiantly at the Colonel. "Besides, she told me to go, or she'd make my life a living hell.

"I don't doubt it. So, I can't change your mind?"

"No sir," Radar mumbled. He eyed the mess in Col. Potter's office. Klinger's on the loose again.

"Fine, dismissed, then."

***********************************

Jessie burst into Radar's office the next morning after spending all night in surgery. "I just heard the strangest thing."

Radar was trying to make sense out of the mess in his office courtesy of Klinger. He didn't dare look up.

"I heard that you were staying. What the _hell_ are you thinking?"

Radar slammed the pile of papers on his desk. "Look, you're the fifth person that's come in here to yell at me! Just get it over with, so I can get back to work!"

"_Yell_ at you?" Jessie yelled back. "I was thinking more along the lines of throttling you! How can you run around here and act like you're the be all and end all of this camp? This war will go on with or without you! With or without any of us!" She threw her hands up in the air.

Radar rubbed his tired eyes. "Look, can we talk about this later?"

"We're going to talk about this _now_!" Jessie glared. "Why in the world do you want to stay? Is it Klinger?" she put both hands on his desk and leaned down to face him. "Let me tell you something. From what I heard, you were awful at this job when you first started, too. You're not the savior of the 4077th. Your mother needs you! _Go home_!"

Radar pushed himself angrily from his desk and turned to face her. He was surprised to see tears falling down her face, and his anger faded.

Jessie was mad at herself for crying. She raised her head defiantly.

"What about you?" he asked quietly. She still looked mad, so he didn't make any moves towards her.

"I'll live," she said, more flippantly than she felt. "Plus, I've got everyone else here with me. Your mom doesn't have anybody."

Radar's shoulders sagged in defeat. He knew she was right. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. She didn't fight him.

"I'm not crying because I don't want you to go," she said, her voice muffled in his jacket. "I'm crying because. . . I'm crying because I'm going to miss you."

***********************************

Twelve hours later, Radar's bags were packed. The camp was abuzz with activity, but it was activity that he had no part of. Just before his farewell party, wounded arrived in the camp. He wandered around, waiting for his jeep to arrive to take him home.

_Home_. It still sounded strange. He had come to think of this dingy place as home, and he took in all the sights as he walked through.

He finally came to the OR and stopped at the door, peering into the window. Everyone was hard at work. He spotted Jessie at Hawkeye's table and smiled to himself, fingering the velvet box in his pocket. He was prepared to pop the question at his party, but the wounded arrived. _I don't want to ask her this way. _Wearily, he turned away.

Jessie looked up in time to see him turn and go. There hadn't been any time for good-byes. The entire time he was packing, Jessie made herself scarce, telling him she was just staying out of his way. She was afraid she would try to convince him to change his mind back into staying, and Col. Potter would have her hide if she did. She sniffed.

"Oh, go on out there," Hawkeye said, throwing a bloody sponge on the floor. "You're crying all in this poor kid's stomach."

Jessie looked expectantly at Major Houilihan for permission. "Go on, Lieutenant, but be quick about it," she said curtly.

Jessie didn't have to be told twice. She flew out of OR, pulling her bloody scrubs off as she went.

She ran out into the compound and looked around. _Had she missed him? _

She finally spotted him across camp climbing into a waiting jeep. He looked up and saw her and started her way.

She flew into his arms and pressed her lips to his.

Breathless, he pulled away. "I love you, Jess," he said, burying his face in her hair. He thought fleetingly of the ring in his pocket, then dismissed the idea. _As soon as she is back in the States . . ._

"I love you, too." Pulling back and sniffing, she straightened his jacket. He grabbed her hands and held them together, kissing them.

Jessie smiled through her tears. "Just be careful, OK? None of this getting killed stuff before you even get home."

He pulled her into his arms again and held her tight. He driver in the jeep honked his horn annoyingly. They ignored it. "I still don't like leaving you here," he whispered.

Jessie tried not to cling to him. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me," she said, pulling back. _I think._ "Now, get going! I think you're driver's going home without you!"

Reluctantly, he climbed into the jeep. With a puff of smoke, they pulled away. Jessie watched the jeep until it disappeared.

**************************************

Several long, tedious hours passed before the wounded stopped coming. Jessie exited the OR with the other weary nurses, who all dispersed to their beds immediately. Without realizing what she was doing, Jessie found herself at the mess tent. She froze with her hand on the knob when she realized what she had done. Shaking her head, she changed course.

Hawkeye and B.J., in various stages of relaxation, didn't even budge when she entered and forlornly flopped on a crate. She put her chin in her hands and sighed. Fleetingly, she was glad Charles wasn't there.

B.J. handed her a full martini glass. "Looks like you need a drink."

Jessie accepted the drink gratefully and downed it in three swallows, shuddering at the taste. "You guys know what I just did?"

Hawkeye spoke up from behind his newspaper. "Went to the mess tent like you and Radar always did after surgery."

Jessie looked surprised. "How did you know?"

B.J. gestured out the door. "Saw you from here."

Jessie blew the hair out of her face. "You know, although he's been gone almost a day, that's the first time it's hit me." She held out her empty glass for a refill. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't wish this place on anybody." She gratefully took another swallow after B.J. refilled her glass. "It's just that it made this place almost bearable, somehow."

"Go easy on that stuff. It'll rot the paint off your throat," Hawkeye said, folding his paper and tossing it beside his cot. "This war won't last forever, you know. Soon, you'll be back home, then you and Radar can get married and have lots of little near-sighted babies and live happily ever after."

Jessie played absent-mindedly with the empty glass in her hands. "He bought a ring when we were in Seoul."

B.J. choked on his drink. Hawkeye rose and grabbed her left hand, inspecting it.

"Either that's the smallest ring in the world, or you said no."

She paused, rubbing her tired eyes. "He never asked."

"How do you know that he bought it, anyway?" B.J. said, recovering from his choking fit.

"While we were on R&R, the jeweler called the room before he got back. Apparently, he left something in the store, but walked back inside as I was talking to the jeweler." She blew her hair out of her face again. "I told him not to tell Radar he had talked to me."

B.J. huffed into his mustache. "I seriously doubt he forgot. Maybe he was waiting for the right moment, but with all the wounded -" He waved his hand in the air.

Hawkeye was studying Jessie. "So, what would you have said if he had asked?"

Jessie was fiddling with a button on her shirt. "I hadn't really thought much about it. This place has a way of making you think only in the present tense and not the future." She stood up wearily, handing him her empty glass. "Thanks for the booze."

As they captains watched her go, B.J. spoke up. "I bet you two weeks' pay that he was going to ask her at his farewell party."

Hawkeye shuffled over to the still. "Damn war," he mumbled, pouring himself a drink into Jessie's empty glass.


	27. Chapter 27

Radar had already been home two weeks, and he was still just as exhausted as he was while in Korea. Farming had not been profitable while he was gone, and the bills steadily mounted as the crops failed. The little money he sent home had been helping his family make ends meet, but just barely. But, they never told him how bad it was. At first, it angered him that they would keep it from him, but he realized that there was nothing he could have done from Korea, anyway. So, he got to work repairing broken tractors and mending fences.

The sun had almost disappeared over the horizon when he entered the kitchen. His mother was standing at the stove, busily stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He sniffed the air hungrily as he rifled through the days mail. Mostly bills. He smiled when at the bottom of the stack, he found a letter in Jessie's familiar handwriting. He tucked the letter into his shirt pocket for later.

When he turned around, his mother was watching him closely.

"How's she been doing?" she asked carefully, resuming stirring the pot of soup. Radar sat at the kitchen table and grabbed a roll from the middle of the table. There's one thing he didn't miss about Korea, and that's the food.

"She's alright," he said, munching happily. "From what she been saying, it's been kind of calm."

Mrs. O'Reilly was quiet for a moment. "She seems like a sweet girl," she said, spooning the soup into two bowls. She sat one down in front of her son. "Such a pretty child." His mother had seen the pictures scattered across the house of the two of them. It certainly took a strong woman to step between Walter and a gun like she did. And she knew her son loved Jessie very much,

That's what made what she had to tell him all the more difficult.

"What's wrong, Ma? You're not eating," Radar said, putting down his spoon and watching his mother carefully. The loss of his uncle had made him a little jumpy about his only remaining immediate family member.

Mrs. O'Reilly placed her napkin that was in her lap on the table. "Mr. Braswell stopped by today."

Radar suddenly lost his appetite. "Did he give us an extension on the loan?"

Mrs. O'Reilly shook her head. He had been working so hard since he came home, and she wished it didn't have to be that way for him. "That's not actually why he came by." When Radar looked confused, she continued slowly. "You remember his daughter Maryanne?"

Radar looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, I think so. She was always kind of . . .shy." Actually, all he could remember was a gangly-legged girl with stringy hair and huge glasses, often teased and ridiculed. Being quite shy himself, Radar often was the object of such attentions, and he never teased the girl himself. He shook himself out of his revelry. "What does she have to do with anything?"

Mrs. O'Reilly sighed. "I don't know if I wrote you about it or not, but your brother was seeing the girl quite a bit."

"Really?" Radar said, wondering where his mother was going with this. He resumed eating. "I didn't think Randy . . .um . . . liked girls like Maryanne."

"Well, apparently, he liked her a little too much," Mrs. O'Reilly said cryptically. "She's pregnant."

Radar almost dropped his spoon back into his bowl. "She's _what_?" he exclaimed. He carefully set down the utensil and watched his mother carefully. "Did Randy know? You know, before he left."

Mrs. O'Reilly rose from the table and started to clear it off as she talked. "That's why he left, according to Mr. Braswell." She wiped at an imaginary spot on the table. "Actually, that's what he came by here to talk about." Yell was more likely, but she didn't dare tell him that.

Radar had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

His mother stopped what she was doing and sat down.

"Wh-what did he say?" Radar said, watching his mother closely.

She didn't dare look him in the eye. "He said if Randy wasn't here to make an honest woman out of Maryanne, then . . ." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Then, I had another son that could."

Radar stared at his mother incredulously. "Is he _crazy_?" he said in wonder. "He might be the town big-wig, but he can't control people's personal stuff!" He leaned back in his chair, sensing that his mother was hiding something else from him. "Ma, what else did he say?" he said, bracing himself.

"He said if Maryanne wasn't an honest woman by the end of the week, then he'd take the farm. The house, the barn, the car, the tractors, the animals, all of it."

Radar had become quite familiar with fear while in Korea. But, nothing compared to the sheer terror he felt now. "H-he can't do that. Can he?" he stammered.

His mother dried her eyes with a napkin. "You know, we're almost three months behind on our payments now. We had to mortgage it all while you were gone. Everything," she ended in a whisper. "I told him it was your decision."

Radar was in shock, and his mother's words were bouncing around in his head like ping-pong balls. He balled his fist in anger, slamming it down on the table.

"No! I _won't_ do it!" he yelled in frustration. "He can't bully me into something like that. It's not right!" Not usually prone to such anger, he suddenly felt the urge to break something. He shoved himself away from the table and paced around the room as his mother watched him sadly. Radar suddenly stopped his pacing and faced his mother.

"What else did he say?" he growled angrily.

She swallowed hard. "He's goin' sue us for the rest we owe him after he sells everything at auction. He said he'd see us both rot in jail before he saw his daughter humiliated."

Radar's shoulder's slumped in defeat. He groped for the nearest chair and sat woodenly. Fear, anger and shame swam through his mind, but he couldn't get a good grip on any of them. He reached in his shirt pocket for a handkerchief, but instead came out with Jessie's letter.

_Jessie . . ._

His mother startled him by reaching out and grasping his arm, crying at her son's obvious pain. "If I could change it, I would." She blew her nose nosily on a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. Her 'mother's mind' couldn't even fathom that one of her children was going to ruin the life of the other.

Radar shoved the letter back in his pocket, heart-broken. He couldn't think about Jessie now. The thought of having to live the rest of his life without her hurt more than any pain he'd ever felt, and he'd be damned if he broke down in front of his mother.

"I'll be outside," he said roughly, grabbing his jacket and slamming the door behind him, leaving his troubled mother behind to clean up the uneaten supper.

*******************************************

Something was wrong. Jessie hadn't received any word from Radar in almost two weeks. She tried to tell herself that it was just the mail on their end, which could sometimes be sporadic at best. However, she and the rest of the camp continued to receive regular correspondence, and there was still no word from Radar.

Jessie thought about calling, but trying to get a line through to the states was near impossible, especially since Klinger hadn't quite mastered that particular duty. Instead, she waiting and worried. When those in camp asked her how Radar was doing at home, she just smiled and said just fine. But, deep inside she knew that something was wrong.

She was eating breakfast one day with Kelleye when Klinger threw a stack of mail on her table.

"Lieutenant, it seems like you have half of Texas writing to you, you know," he grumbled, handing Kelleye her mail. Jessie tried to look indifferent as she shuffled through the stack.

Near the bottom was what she had been waiting for. Trying to be discreet, she brushed all her other envelopes in a pile and tried to keep from tearing into the envelope with the Iowa postmark. Kelleye was engrossed in her own mail, so Jessie began to read.

She glanced up at her friend to find her white as a sheet. "Jess? Jess are you OK?" Kelleye asked.

Jessie didn't reply. "Umm, I'm fine, just fine," she stuttered, gathering up her mail. "Just need some fresh air."

Kelleye watched her go and tried to figure out what she would have received in the mail that would have caused such a reaction. An empty envelope had fallen to the floor, and Kelleye picked it up and saw the Iowa postmark. She watched Jessie march across the compound and wondered.

Jessie flew into her tent and slammed the door behind her, leaning heavily against it. She re-read Radar's letter in shock several times. Slowly, she slid to the floor. _This had to be a nightmare_. One _huge_ nightmare.

Deep down, she knew it wasn't. He was getting married-Jessie choked when she looked at the date of the letter-he was _already_ married! Her emotions were churning so much, that she thought she was going to be sick. The letter fluttered to the floor.

*******************************************

The day went by in a blur. Jessie managed to keep her emotions in check throughout her shift that day, but kept earning concerned comments from her co-workers. Kelleye especially seemed concerned about her and told the other nurses what had happened at breakfast. She showed them the empty envelope.

"And she wouldn't tell you what was wrong?" Bigelow said, studying the postmark.

Kelleye shook her head sadly. "I've seen wounded look better than she does now."

Stacey jumped from her cot. "Well, seems to me if she won't tell us, then we'll have to find out for ourselves."

Kelleye's eyes widened. "You mean-go through her tent?"

But, Stacey was already out the door.

The nurses barged into the Swamp. "We found this," Bigelow said, not waiting for the three doctors to comment. "Read it." The letter fluttered into Hawkeye's lap.

"Oh, so now we're snoops, are we?" Hawkeye said. "Going through peoples' private stuff?" He began to read as Kelleye explained what happened.

"Maybe breakfast made her sick," B.J. said, shrugging. He glanced over at Hawkeye, who had sat up on his cot.

"No, it's more than that," he said, thin lipped, handing the letter to B.J. He ran his hands through his hair.

B.J.'s smile faded as he read the letter to himself. "Uh-oh," he mumbled.

"What? What's going on?" Charles said, noticing his bunk mates shocked expressions.

B.J. began to read aloud:

_Jess,_

_This is probably the hardest thing I have ever done in my whole life. I know I haven't written in awhile, but I've been trying to come up with a way to tell you this that won't hurt so bad. I can't think of a good way to do it, so I'll just tell you. By the time this reaches you, I'll be married. _

B.J. paused and looked up at a shocked Charles. Then, he continued.

_My no-good brother managed to get the banker's daughter pregnant before he skipped town, and he says if I didn't marry her, then he'll take away everything we own and throw my mom and me in jail for the rest of what we owe. He can do it, too, because the farm is mortgaged to a hilt, and we haven't been able to make full payments in months. I have no choice._

_Jess, I'm so sorry. You don't know how much I wish this had never happened. I had counted on spending the rest of my life with you. But, I guess that's not going to happen. I'll never, ever forget you, and I hope you won't forget me._

_Love always,_

_Walter_

The tent was silent.

Charles stood up and took the letter from B.J., reading it to himself. He handed it back to Kelleye. "I'd put this back where you found it if I were you."

"Why? You can tell this is tearing her up inside," Kelleye asked.

Charles wearily sat on his cot. "You don't understand. She'll tell us when she's good and ready to tell us. It would only hurt her more that you went through her things."

"So, we're just supposed to let her suffer alone?" Bigelow said, raising her voice. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard!" She looked at Hawkeye and B.J. for help. They remained silent.

"I can't believe all of you!" Bigelow said, exasperated. "She needs a friend right now, and all you're willing to do is sit around and wait." She snatched the letter from Kelleye. "Fine! I'll put it back in her tent, but I won't make any promises." She marched out of the tent, the other nurses following close behind.

Kelleye, the last one to leave, turned to the trio. "Jessie's in post-op right now," she whispered. "Thought you might want to get to her before they do." She gestured towards the two annoyed women, then followed them out the door.

Hawkeye rose from his bunk. "C'mon Beej. Let's go see if we can get her to tell us what's wrong before Attilas the Hun out there bombard her. You coming, Charles?"

Charles shook his head and resumed reading his book. "She'll tell you whenever she gets ready. I'd leave it, if I were you."

Hawkeye shrugged, brushing off his bathrobe. "Suit yourself."

"Why does it not surprise me? You never listen to a thing I say anyway." But, Charles was left talking to the swinging door.

**********************************************

They found Jessie in post-op, talking with one of the wounded. They watched her for a moment. The soldier said something, and Jessie laughed. But, the minute she turned away, all the laughter drained from her face, leaving her pale and drawn.

Hawkeye caught Margaret by the arm as she brushed by him with a chart. "Have you noticed anything strange about Jessie today?"

Margaret firmly yanked her arm out of Hawkeye's grasp and straightened her coat. She peered at Jessie thoughtfully, who was studiously checking the bandages on one of the wounded.

"She's seemed a little quiet. When I asked her what was wrong, she said she was feeling under the weather," Margaret replied. She looked at the two men. "Why?"

B.J. and Hawkeye looked at each other. "Should we tell her?" B.J. asked.

Margaret stood up to her full height. "Tell me what? Since she _is_ one of my nurses, I think I have the right to know what is going on here!"

Hawkeye made sure Jessie was still across the room and gave her the details.

Margaret gasped. "Oh, you're _kidding_," she whispered. They just shook their heads sadly. "Well, I'm going to see if she's OK," Margaret said, taking a few steps in Jessie's direction.

Hawkeye grabbed her arm and hauled her backwards. "Major, you're not exactly getting the point. We don't want her to know that we know. We want her to tell us herself since we came by this knowledge by being totally unscrupulous," Hawkeye said. "You're not exactly subtle enough to handle it."

"Oh, and I suppose you two are?" Margaret said, crossing her arms. "Fine! You two handle her." She tossed her hair and walked away.

"Ready?" Hawkeye said. B.J. nodded, and they walked across the room to Jessie, who was checking an IV.

"Hey, Lieutenant, how's it goin'?" Hawkeye said cheerily.

Jessie stood and smiled wanly at the pair. "OK," she said, unconvincingly. They were standing in her way, smiling expectantly. She wondered what they were up to and narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

B.J. cleared his throat. "Just curious how things were going at home. Have some coffee with us?"

"Yeah, let's go over to the mess tent. We were wondering how things were going with you, you know your family back in Texas. Maybe how things are with Radar," Hawkeye chimed in.

They both watched her closely.

She swallowed hard. The pain she had been trying so hard to keep at bay hit her with such force that her stomach hurt. "I-I don't think I'm up to coffee right now. Maybe later," she said, trying to brush by the pair.

She was halfway across the room when Hawkeye cleared his throat. "Jess, we know about Radar."

Jessie stopped in mid-stride. _What the hell? _"What can you do to get some privacy around here," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. She put her hands on her hips, annoyed "Look, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't meddle."

They watched her closely. Although her tone was angry, her eyes were sad.

"Look, Jess, we just want to help. We know you must feel terrible . . ."

"Terrible?" Jessie said, trying to remember not to raise her voice. She continued in a lower tone. "Look, I appreciate you trying to help and all, but this is my business." She ignored the pair as she continued her rounds.

"Maybe old Chuckles was right," B.J. said.

**************************************

For two days, Jessie stayed to herself. Ever since the initial shock wore off, she had not cried a drop. Oh, not that she didn't hurt. Each time she thought she would have her churning emotions in check, she would turn around and something would remind her of Radar, and it was almost like a vice around her heart.

And, God, how she hated the pitying looks from everyone in camp! She worked so hard to keep on with her duties as normal that when she was finally alone in her tent, she couldn't cry then either. Time and time again, she started a letter to him, then would crumple it up in frustration. After going through an entire pad of paper, she gave up. There was no need to reply. What was done, was done.

Instead, she concentrated on putting up everything that reminded her of him. The painting from Col. Potter, the stuffed horse, the pictures, everything went into a crate and sat in the corner of her tent. Before she sealed the box, she reached for the necklace around her neck. She had not taken it off since he had given it to her months before. Before she could remove it, she stopped and looked at herself in the mirror. Instead, she took a deep breath and hammered the crate closed, leaving the necklace.

She even hated looking at the crate, so she took it to Klinger to mail home.

She couldn't sleep, either. Often, she found herself at the Officer's Club late at night, sipping whatever the bartender on duty had available, which usually wasn't much.

One night, exhausted, Jessie flopped down on a stool.

Klinger, who was the bartender for the night, looked up from cleaning the bar. "Hey, kiddo!" he said, a little too brightly. He had never seen her green eyes so sad. "What'll it be?"

"Heard you got in some good whiskey. Give me a shot."

Klinger looked at her, worried. "That's a little strong, don't you think?"

"I don't need you to tell me what I can drink!" Jessie snapped back. At Klinger's hurt look, she softened. "Sorry, Max. I just haven't . . .been myself lately."

"That's OK," he replied, reaching for the bottle. He poured her a shot, which Jessie threw back.

She licked her lips, then reached for some cash, which she threw on the counter. "Leave the bottle, will you?"

Klinger looked at Jessie closely. "Look, drinking doesn't change anything. I should know!"

Jessie laughed bitterly, but didn't reply. She shoved the money towards him, and he reluctantly handed her the bottle.

She downed the bottle in two hours. What worried Klinger was it didn't even seem to affect her. She just started into space, not saying a word. He slipped out of the Officer's Club and ran to the Swamp.

Klinger startled Charles when he rushed in the door. "Sirs, I think you should come quick!" He looked around the tent. "Hey, where's B.J. and Hawkeye?"

"Surgery," Charles said. He started to make a flippant comment, but stopped when he saw Klinger was genuinely concerned. "What's wrong, Corporal?"

Klinger took a deep breath. Charles was as good as anyone. "It's Jessie. She's been in the O Club for over an hour and drank a whole bottle of whiskey."

Charles shuttered at the thought. "She's not making a scene, is she?"

Klinger shook his head. "That's the strange thing about it. She's not doing nothing but drinking. She's not talking or dancing or yelling or crying. Just drinking." He paused. "She thinks I went to get her another bottle, but I didn't think she needed it."

Charles rose wearily from the cot and put on his coat. "Look, I'll be there in a minute. Just keep her away from the booze."

"Yes, sir," Klinger said and rushed out the door.

When Charles entered the Officer's Club, he found Jessie sitting forlornly at the bar, slowly peeling the label off the empty bottle. He quietly settled on a stool next to her.

"You know, that stuff is almost as vile as the toxins my bunkmates call gin," he said, examining what was left of the label.

"Yeah, well, Klinger promised me another bottle, but I guess he got lost," Jessie said slowly, trying not to slur her words.

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but Jessie held up her hand.

"Look, Winchester, you can sit here all night if you want. But, don't talk."

They sat in silence for a moment, Jessie continuing stripping the bottle of its label. Charles reached around the counter for whatever was handy and poured himself a liberal amount in a semi-clean glass.

After Jessie had taken the label completely off the bottle, she caught sight of herself in a small mirror on the other side of the bar and almost recoiled. _Great. I look pretty much how I feel._ Tears came to her eyes.

Charles handed her a handkerchief, which she gladly accepted.

"You know what's funny about this whole thing?" she asked, wiping at her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Especially in front of Charles.

"I don't find anything funny about it."

Jessie blew her nose, ignoring his comment. "I came to this stupid country to get away from a guy, of all the crazy immature things to do." she said, fiddling with the handkerchief. "And now, look. I'm sitting alone in a dingy bar in a war zone crying about what? Another stupid guy. I guess I'll honestly never learn."

She unsteadily climbed off the stool. Charles reached out to help her, but she angrily brushed him off.

"I don't need your help," she growled, steadying herself on the bar. She jumped when Charles slammed his glass down on the bar. It echoed in the dim room.

"Stop being so damned prideful!"

Jessie laughed aloud scornfully. "Prideful? This coming from Sir Pompous Ass himself?" she said, eying the door.

Charles whirled her around to face him. "We're your friends, Jessamyn! We don't like to see you hurting like this. Why do you insist on keeping this to yourself?"

Jessie wriggled free of his hand firmly holding her arm. "You're one to talk about feelings, especially since you never show anything but disdain towards the rest of us!" she said coldly and managed to walk regally out the door into the cool night.

Charles followed. "All we want to do is help! All _I_ want to do it help!"

Jessie stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to face Charles. "I'm angry at this Godforsaken place," she hissed. "I'm angry at a small-town banker that has control over people he shouldn't have." She could feel the tears finally falling, and she didn't try to stop them. "I'm angry at a girl I've never met who is with the man that I was supposed to be with. And, I'm angry at him. You know, he made a noble decision, and I've still managed to be furious at him."

Charles didn't reply.

"And, my problem is all of you! You sneak around and make soothing remarks, but I don't _want_ that! I don't want your pity or anyone else's!" She threw her hands up in the air in disgust. "God, this place is driving me nuts! First, it takes your sanity, then it takes the best feelings in the world, like hope and love, and grinds them to a pulp! And you know what that leaves me? Alone!"

Jessie choked on the last word, the tears falling in earnest. A sob caught in her throat. She rubbed her hands wearily over her eyes.

Charles stood with his hands in his pockets against the chilly night, watching her fall apart, aching to comfort her, but not sure if she would let him.

"What am I going to do, Charles?" she finished simply, answering his question. He reached out to her as the sobs began, wrapping his arms around her as she cried.

******************************

I have two endings to this thing. One of them, you're not going to like (I'm afraid), but it's the one I need to do my crossover fic later on. You'll get my drift once you start reading it. If you want the other ending, let me know, and I'll send it to you after this entire thing is posted. Also, all sorts of characters will continue to show up down the road (yes, even Frank, Trapper and even everyone's favorite CID man Flagg) Hey, and thanks for sticking around this far! – tonygirl


	28. Chapter 28

References to the ep "Death Takes A Holiday" with my own little creative twist, of course :-)

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Hawkeye and B.J. slumped through the door of the Swamp, littering the dingy floor with their clothes. Charles was sitting at his desk thumbing through a well-worn book.

B.J. stopped when he spotted a form in Charles's bunk. He motioned in that direction with a dirty martini glass, getting Hawkeye's attention. His bunkmate raised an eyebrow, but kept silent.

B.J. cleared his throat. "So, what happened?" he asked, settling with a weary sigh onto his cot.

Charles closed his book with a thud. "Jack Daniels. Maybe Jim Beam. I honestly don't remember." He looked over at Jessie. "I really don't think she will, either."

"You mean, she finally caved?" Hawkeye asked, struggling to pull his filthy boots from his feet. He threw them on the floor loudly. Jessie stirred and flopped over.

Charles gave Hawkeye a dirty look, making sure she remained asleep. He had led her to the Swamp to avoid the stares of the few stragglers in the compound after her outburst. The past few emotional roller-coaster days had finally taken their toll, and Jessie had fallen asleep. "Yes, she did."

"You think she'll be alright?" B.J. stood up to refill his glass.

Charles shrugged. "As alright as anyone could be in this place, I suppose."

B.J. and Hawkeye nodded in mutual understanding.

*****************************************

To say that the next few weeks were difficult was an understatement. Although she tried not to let it show. She did her duty, and did it well - from the operating room to the supply room – and whether she knew it or not - all under Charles's watchful eye.

Everyone hated to see the haunted look in her eyes when she thought no one was looking. But, Jessie soldiered on, fighting through the pain that caught in her throat each time something reminded her of what she had.

She never sang anymore, not even to the wounded. No matter how hard her friends would cajole, she couldn't muster the ability. She just plain didn't feel like it.

In his own way, Charles was there for her. He didn't smother her with attention or coax her into talking about her feelings. When she found herself at her lowest, he would show up with his chess set or a new book or record and distract her from her thoughts. He could always make her smile with stories about the trouble he and Honoria –especially Honoria – would get into when they were younger. With some coaxing, he would even get her to talk about her family and life at home. Surprising even himself, he was genuinely interested in where she came from and what made her into the woman she was today.

But, he never could get her to sing, either. And, oh, how he missed it!

Jessie became accustomed to the loneliness. She found herself laughing at the jokes B.J., Hawkeye, Charles and Margaret would play on each other and genuinely meaning it. She also found that she could wake up in the morning and not be crushed by the weight of it all. She even managed a few gab fests with the nurses until the early morning hours, just like before. But, if the conversation ever once came close to mentioning Radar, she clammed up and tried her best to change the subject.

She became comfortable with the friendship she and Charles had developed, enjoying his company and his support. Now that she had gotten to really know him, she found him to be not at all pompous and uncaring as she originally thought him to be. He had his moments, but his true self was not at all what he allowed the outside world to see.

That's how she found herself knee-deep in donated food, defending him each time someone commented on the one can of oysters he reluctantly handed over for the orphans' Christmas party.

"Look, I'm sure he's got his reasons." Jessie helped Klinger move a table over to the corner, huffing and puffing with exertion.

"I know you're friends and all, but he's gotten at least three very large boxes this month. You can't tell me there wasn't something in there aside from one can of pencil erasers!"

She wiped her hands on her pants. "You know as well as I do that Charles keeps to himself. If he wants to keep whatever was in those boxes, then nothing we can say will change that."

"But, it's Christmas! Since our supply line was cut, you'd think he'd want to help these children have a good time!" They moved another table.

"Who knows what he does or doesn't do, since he's so private! From what I was told, he seems to clam up even more during the holidays. I guess it's his way of coping." Jessie glanced wistfully at the scraggly tree in the corner decorated with surgical utensils, feeling a sudden wave of homesickness for the gigantic spruce that always decorated their foyer. The last few years, she had even gone deep into the woods with Arthur to pick it out and cut it down. _But not this year._

Klinger noticed the look in her eyes. They all had the same one their first Christmas away from home. He reached over and patted her back. "Look, kiddo, if you want to take up for him, go ahead. He doesn't deserve it, but you've always been a sucker for lost causes."

"Gee, thanks, Klinger."

"Attention all personnel! Too early for a Christmas truce! Wounded in the compound!"

**********************************************

"Hark the herald ages ssiiinnng! Glory to the newborn kkiiinngg!" Hawkeye tried to entertain himself, as well as the staff, as they stitched their way through another batch of wounded.

"Pierce, would you please cease and desist? And that's an order!"

"Why, Charles. I thought you enjoyed fine music."

"I believe what is bellowing from your lungs is the last thing anyone would call music, let alone _fine_ music."

"Oh, c'mon, Hawk. You know what Christmas does to Charles." B.J. threw a sponge on the floor.

"Yeah, he has a tighter grip on his wallet." Hawkeye didn't even glance up when the faraway shelling abruptly came closer.

"Look, guys, leave him alone." Although assisting Col. Potter with a difficult bowel resection, Jessie had all she could take. "It's none of your business what Charles does with his money or food or anything else, for that matter."

"Spoken like a true aristocrat," B.J. added.

"I would take a true aristocrat over a snarky doctor any day," Jessie shot back, annoyed. She handed the Colonel the metzenbaum scissors before he asked for them.

"OK, folks, enough! No more defamation of character during this session. Period!" The OR obediently fell quiet at the Colonel's demand, except for Hawkeye humming Christmas carols across the room.

***************************************

"So, what did you donate?" Kelleye asked Jessie as they sterilized equipment.

"Brownies from Mattie. And cookies from my sister. Err . . . her cook."

"Sounds delicious!"

"I'm just glad you donated macadamias! I think we're going to need some salt in our diet after all those sweets!"

They could hear the surgeons before they saw them.

"OK, Beej, guess what this one is. Hmm, hm, hm, hm, hmmmm, hm."

"Uhhh, 'The First Noel'!"

"Wrong! It's 'Jingle Bells'."

"There was no way that was 'Jingle Bells'! 'Jingle Bells' goes like this. Hmm, hmm, hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm."

Jessie and Kelleye smiled at each other as they worked.

"Well, why don't we ask our expert music critic."

"Yes, Charles, why don't you tell us the exact pitch and timing of 'Jingle Bells'."

Charles rolled his eyes as he removed his bloodied scrubs, tossing them carelessly into the laundry bin.

Jessie's smile faded as she chewed on her lip, trying to keep quiet as they needled him.

"You should know that 'Jingle Bells' is beneath a Winchester."

"Hell, Beej, we're all beneath a Winchester, at least according to the resident one."

Finally, Jessie had enough. A piece of equipment rattled on the tray as she tossed it aside. "Please, guys, just shut up. OK?"

"Why should we? He's selfish, egotistical . . ."

"Excuse me? Gentlemen? I get the point. Now, please do as the Lieutenant said and shut up." He turned to face Jessie. "And Lieutenant? I don't need you to fight my battles for me. So, perhaps you could take a bit of your own advice and butt out!" Charles glared at Jessie before he stormed from the room.

Miffed, Jessie resumed her work, hoping she didn't look as embarrassed as she felt. Hawkeye and B.J. continued with their game, arguing about how to hum 'Silent Night', but Jessie didn't notice. She focused on the task at hand, trying to forget Charles's words. It wasn't like he hadn't ever snapped at her before, usually ending with her snapping back. But, since Radar left, they had developed what she thought was a rapport, and she had forgotten how cruel his words could be. Or, maybe they just sounded harsh due to the fact they were supposed to be friends.

Jessie jumped when a hand touched her arm.

"You OK, Lieutenant?" Col. Potter asked. He had seen the exchange and couldn't help but notice the hurt look in her eyes she tried to cover with indifference.

"Fine, sir."

"Don't worry about Winchester."

"I don't." Jessie struggled with a way to change the subject. "How're your corns?"

The colonel made a face. "Been better. I hope my wife's package gets her soon, or I'll be doing surgery on my knees. Both of you better hurry up or you'll be late for the shindig."

***************************************

The party was a huge success, the joy on the children's faces at the small gifts and food temporarily helping them all forget their troubles.

Jessie was with Father Mulchaey when he was called to pre-op to give the last rights to the soldier B.J. was trying to keep alive through Christmas. Despite the decorations and the laughter, depression tried to creep up on her as she watched him walk away.

"Hey, Jess, wait up!"

_Good! A diversion!_ "Klinger! So, what did you think of the socks?"

He pulled up his pants leg. "Already have them on. Warmest things I own."

"My sister made them for me, but they're too big. Thought you might like them."

"Hell, I like anything from home! Even your home! But, Jess, I gotta tell you something." He took her over to a semi-private corner and lowered his voice. "You were right."

"Right about what?" Jessie whispered.

"About Major Winchester." He told her about the exchange he overheard between Charles and the overseer of the orphanage.

Fleetingly, Jessie thought of her own family's traditions that she was missing.

"I never thought in a billion years I'd say this, but maybe Major Winchester isn't so bad after all."

Jessie gave Klinger a small smile. "See. You'll have to listen to me more often."

Her smile faded as Klinger walked away. Charles could be such an enigma. Jessie knew he had this mental wall around himself, denying few, if any, into his life. It was how he dealt with the chaos around him. They all dealt with it in their own way. For all she knew, he was like that at home, as well.

But, there was no call for treating her like he had.

A small hand tugged on her pants leg, saving her from her thoughts. Jessie had to smile at the cute little girl as she leaned over to speak to her.

"Hey, sweetheart. What do you have there?"

"It was under the tree, way back in the back," Bigelow called out from across the room. "You looked like you could use a special delivery."

"Who's it from?"

Bigelow shrugged. "Didn't say."

Jessie took the wrapped package from the little girl. She reached in her pocket and gave her a piece of candy she had been saving . With a large grin, the little girl scampered back to Bigelow, proudly displaying her prize.

Jessie settled at a table. Curious, she tore into the plain brown wrapping – oh, for colored Christmas paper! – and a card fell out. Jessie recognized the familiar scrawl. She set aside the half-opened gift and carefully opened the envelope. For some reason, she was holding her breath.

_Jessamyn –I know you were trying to take up for me, and I did appreciate it more than I realized. After fighting my own battles in this wretched place, it's comforting to know someone is on my side. I wanted you to have this, so at least you could remember times when I wasn't so harsh and unforgiving. Merry Christmas. – Charles_

She felt tears sting her eyes. Resolutely, she picked up the gift and tore away the remaining paper. The frame was silver and was worth a bundle, she could tell. But, the picture is what touched her the most.

_"Really, Charles, you can make the most depressing pictures ever. If you're going to get all dressed up in your 'Sunday-go-to-court martial' uniform, you might as well look happy about it."_

_Charles rolled his eyes resignedly. "This is not a fun booth photo. It's for my sister. She wants proof that I'm not withering away in this cesspool." Nearby, the timer on the camera ticked merrily away._

_"I think your sister has a better sense of humor than some dour photo." Jessie walked into the carefully set up frame and poked Charles in the stomach. "And, I don't think you have to worry about withering away."_

_Charles tried to give Jessie an exasperating look, but failed. It was so good to see her out and about. "What are you doing out here anyway? You'll catch your death of cold!"_

_"C'mon, it's 50 degrees. That's almost summer around here! Plus, you yourself told me I was fit enough to go back to work."_

_"Well, where's your ever-present shadow?" Radar had been constantly hovering around her as she recuperated._

_Jessie shrugged, studying the camera. "Colonel Potter has him busy." _

_The camera continued snapping carefully timed photos, but Charles didn't notice as Jessie playfully removed his hat and plopped it on her own head._

_"Gee, no wonder you're so pompous. You really do have a big head!" She pushed the hat back to keep it from falling in her eyes._

_He draped his arm over her shoulders in a friendly gesture. "You really do exasperate me, Jessamyn. Not only are you interruptive, but you put entirely too much stock in making me enjoy myself."_

_Jessie grinned up at him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Why, thank you, Major Winchester. Didn't think you'd noticed."_

_He couldn't help but smile back. _

Jessie had almost forgotten about the entire exchange. At the time, she had searched for Charles, worried about him because he had been acting strangely . She had been determined to lift his spirits, despite not knowing what had brought about his funk in the first place.

Or maybe she did know, but didn't want to think about it.

Making her way to her tent, Jessie sat the photo on her nightstand and rummaged in her footlocker for the package. At the last minute, she decided not to give it to one of the children, thinking one day she and Charles would be on speaking terms again. She just didn't think it would be so soon.

A light was on inside the Swamp. She knocked tentatively, hoping he was still awake.

"Come in." He set his book aside as she hesitantly stepped inside.

For a moment, she stood awkwardly, wondering what to say. "You missed a good party."

"I'm sure it was . . . ah . . . splendid."

Cautiously, she stepped inside. "Thanks for the picture. The frame's beautiful."

Charles looked away. "It wasn't much, but I thought due to my actions earlier, I owed you some form of apology. I had planned to give it to you anyway before . . . well before what happened in the scrub room." Actually, he had wanted to buy her a set of ruby earrings he saw in Tokyo, but restrained himself from such a lavish gift.

"I wondered what happened to those photos."

Charles chuckled. "I sent the roll to my sister to be developed, and she said she enjoyed the pictures much more after you showed up in them. Apparently, the first ones were as droll as you had said they would be."

"You know, that's the second time tonight someone has told me I was right. I guess I'm on a roll."

"And the first?"

A deep breath. "Klinger. He told me about the orphans and the candy." At Charles's look, she quickly added. "But, he only told me because I had been taking up for you the past couple of days. And I have something for you, too. It's not much, but it was my first and only foray into the needlearts." She reached inside her coat and came out with a package, wrapping similarly in brown paper.

Charles took it from her, pleased but trying not to show it, his irritation with Klinger momentarily forgotten. Carefully, he opened it, revealing the dark red and white scarf with red trim. He held it for a moment without speaking.

Jessie's face fell. "You don't like it."

"No. No, that's not it at all. I . . . love it."

"You do?"

He fingered the painstaking stitches. "Of course! I don't own very many things that are homemade." His mother was much too busy to knit. She could pay someone else to do it, anyway.

Jessie smiled with relief. "It matches your hat." She reached behind her and snatched it off his foot locker. "See?"

"Well, would you look at that."

Jessie put the knitted cap on his head. She took the scarf from him and wrapped it around his neck, fussing with it a bit, rubbing her hand over the bumpy stitches. "A Jessie Callahan original. Maybe one day it'll be worth a lot of money." Wearily, she sighed, her hands settling on his chest. Being cheerful wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Don't you get tired of pretending everything's just fine, knowing that all of us are so homesick, we'd move mountains to be home right now?"

He placed his hands over hers, holding them to his chest. When she looked up, she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I . . . I didn't mean to upset you. I was just feeling sorry for myself. That's all."

As quickly as the unshed tears formed, they were gone. "No, it's not that. It's just that . . . well, I was just thinking . . ." He took a deep breath. "No matter how crazy or inhumane this world seems to be, I know you'll be there. It scares me to know I might have chased you away."

Such sentiment from Charles was downright shocking, and she didn't know what to say. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. With her wearing boots and him in slippers, she was the perfect height for it.

"Merry Christmas, Charles. I hope you'll be home for the next one."

"Thank you, Jessamyn." _But, if you aren't with me, it won't be the same. _The thought snuck up on him. He tried to push it away as he held onto her tighter, using her as a shield against the sadness and despair just on the edge of his soul.


	29. Chapter 29

References "Foreign Affairs" and "The Life You Save." And I know I got them all out of order. Just humor me, 'kay?

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The Red Cross had sent a French representative to the 4077th to observe their techniques. Martene. Jessie liked the friendly woman with the lively eyes, along with the rest of the camp. And she was just as surprised when Martene and Charles seemed to hit it off. Jessie was genuinely happy for him, even being amused at Hawkeye's seemingly jealous glances in the happy couple's direction as they talked the night away.

"Oh, c'mon, Hawkeye," Jessie said, leaning over him at the bar and reaching for some stale pretzels. "He deserves someone just as much as you do."

Hawkeye muttered to himself, hunched over his beer glass. "But, I've always had a thing for French women."

"Yeah, and Asian and Brazilian and Polish and American . . ." B.J. ticked off on his fingers. Hawkeye gave his friend a mean look, then immediately laughed aloud.

Klinger polished off the last pretzel in the bowl. "So, you're not . . . you know . . . jealous?"

"Huh?"

Hawkeye studied her closely. "The two of you seemed to be getting along famously, especially since Radar left. . ." He trailed off and the brief look of sadness in her eyes.

She absently pushed her pretzels around on her napkin. "Charles is a good man. But, we're just friends." However, glancing over at him and Martene, heads together in conversation, she was disturbed by the vague feeling of uneasiness.

Looking for a diversion, she elbowed B.J. in the side. "Besides, who do you think helps him come up with all the tricks he pulls on the two of you."

"I _knew_ he had help with some of those!"

*******************************************

"So, what do you think, hoops or studs?"

Jessie looked up from her magazine. "Do you really think he'll notice? Hawkeye isn't exactly a details person."

"Only the _important_ details!" Kelleye pointed out.

The new nurse Kathy threw a pillow at Kelleye. Resolutely, she chose the hoops. "Well, I don't care. I might as well have fun while I'm here. Sara Bigelow, you're stinking up Jessie's tent with all that nail polish! Desist already!"

Jessie laughed at her friends, thumbing through the pages. She had left the O-Club early, her awareness of Charles and Martene huddled together in the corner making her a trifle uneasy. However, it was easy to lose herself in the friendly chatter of the nurses, forgetting what had bothered her all evening.

They didn't hear the soft knock on the door. Hearing laughter inside, Martene opened it, making herself welcome.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Oh, not at all. Make yourself at home," Kelleye said, stacking magazines to make room for their new guest. They had already discussed the French visitor and found her to their liking. Especially for the fact she was smart enough to avoid Hawkeye.

"Actually, I have a prior engagement, but I would like to speak to Lieutenant Callahan, if I might."

"Just no medical talk. I'm off-duty until tomorrow afternoon."

Martene laughed aloud. "I wouldn't imagine boring you with such business on your day off. Please, this is actually . . . personal."

"Oh. Well, let's step outside."

Kelleye and Bigelow looked at each other, eyebrows raised in curiosity as Jessie followed her guest out. They fell over themselves to press against the burlap, dying for some gossip as Kathy protested their lack of decorum.

Jessie heard the stifled giggles from inside. "Martene, if whatever you want to tell me is personal and you don't want whatever it spread all over camp by morning, you might want to step away from my tent."

Martene laughed again, and Jessie couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, it seems that ears will hear no matter how softly mouths speak, no?"

"Yeah, something like that. So, what's on your mind?"

Martene seemed suddenly uncomfortable, trying to formulate her words carefully. "I saw you and Ch . . . Major Winchester this evening in the Officer's Club. You both dance divinely."

Jessie colored slightly and waved her hand. "Oh, that's just something we do." Since Radar left, she had tried to keep busy by teaching some of the enlisted men to dance. Most of them were terrible students, but it kept Jessie's mind off her troubles.

Charles had caught her one day trying to avoid Rizzo's feet in the O-Club. Gallantly, he had saved her from total destruction, then offered to dance with her himself. Jessie had forgotten how much she enjoyed ballroom dancing, especially with a partner that knew what he was doing.

Ever since, when that particular song was played on the jukebox, they both stopped what they were doing if they were both in the O-Club, no matter who was watching, and danced.

"I was actually . . . actually surprised when he approached me. He seemed so . . . so – ah - caught up with . . ."

Martene smiled. "I am but an acquaintance, but you are a dear friend. One always chooses friends first. And that brings me to my question."

Jessie motioned for her to go on, curious and hesitant at the same time.

"Are you and Charles lovers?"

Jessie almost choked. She shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no, not at all!"

Martene studied Jessie closely. "The two of you seem so . . . so confident in each other. It's rare to see people act and look at each other the way you do who are not intimate."

Nervous, Jessie tried not to stutter. "Good grief! He helped me through a rough time, and I'll . . . I'll always be grateful. But, that's all there is."

"He speaks highly of you, you know."

"Really?" While not as pompous towards her as with most everyone else, it was still rare for him to spout compliments.

"Oh, yes. That's why I had to make sure before I took our relationship any further."

"Why didn't you ask him?"

"I did. He said the same thing you did. You're just friends."

Somewhere between disappointment and relief, Jessie decided to let it go.

Martene seemed satisfied. "Well, I guess I better get back to . . . to my prior engagement." With a smile, she turned and walked away.

Jessie had an idea of what the "prior engagement" was and didn't want to ponder on it. Shaking her head at her own confusion, she opened the door to her tent and laughed as Kathy, Sara and Kelleye stumbled over themselves to get away from the door.

**************************************

Jessie and Kelleye were walking through camp a few days later, discussing a patient in post-op as they took a break from their duties. They were both startled by Martene emerging from the Swamp, tears in her eyes. They watched as she climbed into a waiting jeep and was whisked away without a backwards glance.

They looked at each other.

"Uh, oh. Trouble in paradise?" Kelleye said, motioning towards the Swamp.

Jessie watched the jeep disappearing around the bend, curiosity trying to get the best of her. She shrugged. "They seemed happy enough."

"It'll get around soon enough. You know how it is around here."

Jessie grimaced. _I sure do._

Slowly, they returned to the post-op ward and their impending weekly review by Major Houlihan.

That evening, Jessie found herself at the door of the Swamp, her arm raised to knock. She knew Charles. He wouldn't want to talk about it. But, he had been so kind to her since Radar left, she couldn't ignore him. Chewing on her bottom lip in frustration, she wondered what to do.

"Well, are you coming in or not?"

Jessie sighed at his tone and opened the door. Charles was lying on his cot, hands behind his head in the dimly-lit tent, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. B.J. and Hawkeye were thankfully absent.

Uncomfortable, Jessie looked around for a space free of magazines, clothes and other flotsam, finally easing herself onto Hawkeye's cluttered bunk. She took a deep breath, wondering what in the world she was doing there in the first place.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Jessie rolled her eyes.

"I saw that."

Jessie cleared her throat. "I saw Martene leaving today. She didn't . . . look happy. Actually, she looked downright upset."

"I _said_ I didn't want to talk about it."

Jessie's anger flared. "You know, Charles, you're allowed the emotions the rest of us feel. You're not _that_ inhuman."

Charles remained silent, so she pressed on.

"What happened?"

Charles sat up on the cot abruptly, startling Jessie. "Persistence in a woman is not a trait to be admired. I've told you _and_ the two cretins I share this tent with that I don't want to talk about it. At least they took the hint and left!"

Jessie stood up in a huff. "You're right. I'm _sorry_ I invaded your _private space!_ I forget what a child you can be about that." She started to leave, but Charles's strangled breath stopped her in her tracks. Instead, she stopped and sat beside him on his cot, keeping her distance, watching him study his hands.

"Funny you say that," he finally managed.

Jessie waited. Hesitantly, he told her what had happened earlier in the day. When he was done, he wiped abruptly at his eyes. "I just can't be something I'm not. I don't want to turn away from the only life I've ever known. Or maybe . . .maybe I'm just not brave enough. Like you were. With O'Reilly."

Jessie's back stiffened at the mention of Radar. But, she found that her concern for Charles could easily overtake the momentary dagger of pain in her heart. "Do you remember the night after I was shot? When I had the nightmare? And what about when that injured soldier grabbed me when he was suffocating?"

A different emotion hit Charles. He had tried to forget about those nights she laid in post-op, just like he had tried to forget the fear that overcame him of losing her. Although she wasn't even his to lose. "I remember."

"You were there for me, just like you've been there for me the last few weeks. At least allow me to return the gesture. It helps to have someone to lean on, you know."

Charles reached over a placed his hand over hers. They sat like that for awhile, taking comfort from each other's presence.

***********************************************

Charles behaved strangely the next couple of days. Margaret, Hawkeye and B.J. were at their wits end, especially after Charles pestered one wounded soldier to tell him what it was like before he was revived. Being placed in charge of the motor pool, he had instructed Rizzo to take apart each jeep and lay the pieces on sheets, further exasperating everyone in camp. Jessie honestly didn't know what was going on and was almost a little afraid to approach him. He clearly did not want to be bothered.

Col. Potter stopped her one day in post-op. "Lieutenant, could I speak to you a moment in my office." Jessie looked up at Margaret, who nodded. Silently, she followed the Colonel to his office.

He motioned for her to take a seat as he settled across his desk from her. "Lieutenant, I'm a little concerned about Major Winchester. He seems a little . . .er, off his rocker."

"I . . . I understand. I've seen it, too."

Col. Potter cracked his knuckles, a gesture Radar had told her that meant he was nervous. "Do think it has something to do with the Red Cross lady?"

Jessie paused before answering. She had wondered that herself. "No, sir, I don't. Charles isn't the type to . . .to fall apart over women."

Col. Potter motioned with his hands. "Well, when the right one comes along, it could bring the strongest man to his knees."

Jessie shook her head. "I really don't think that's it, Colonel, although I honestly haven't talked to him. We've been so busy . . ."

The wounded had been coming since the day a sniper had harassed the camp the day before while they were attempting triage in the compound, injuring a couple of nurses. Jessie barely had time to eat, let alone talk. But, that didn't stop her from watching Charles closely, wondering what was wrong. "But, I'll talk to him as soon as I get a chance."

"You do that, Lieutenant. Meanwhile, I've placed a call to Sidney."

Jessie paused. "I don't know . . ."

"Nonsense. He's already on his way."

Jessie bit her tongue. Charles would _not_ like a shrink poking into his head. "Yes, sir. I better get back to post-op, if we're finished."

He waved his hand. "Dismissed."

Throughout her shift, Jessie decided she would find Charles and make him talk to her. If he wanted to or not.

When the next shift arrived, Jessie quickly went through the patients' files with them and hurried out the door, shedding her white lab coat for her heavy jacket. She shivered against the breeze and headed towards the Swamp. Not finding him there, she wandered around, hoping to run into him.

Walking by the motor pool, she was surprised to see Charles climbing into an ambulance of all things, a determined look on his face. Looking more befuddled than usual, Rizzo stood nearby.

_Funny, Col. Potter didn't say anything about Charles leaving._

"What's goin' on?" Jessie asked, standing beside the likable, but slow, mechanic.

Rizzo scratched his head. "First, he makes me tuck each of these jeeps in for the night on these nice clean sheets." He motioned towards the ground and all the parts lying around. "Then, he yells at me for it! Now, he takes off in the only workin' vehicle in camp. One he doesn't even have access to!" Rizzo shook his head. "I'll never understand these Yankees."

Knowing she was going to be in trouble for leaving without permission, but instantly caring, Jessie yanked open the door and climbed into the passenger seat as Charles reached for the starter.

He stared at her incredulously. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Going with you." Jessie crossed her arms and stared through the dirty windshield.

"But, you don't even know where I'm . . ."

Jessie turned to look at Charles. "Do you really think after the way you've been acting lately, that I'd let you go _anywhere_ by yourself?"

"But . . . but it's dangerous! You could be killed."

"Then why in the world are _you_ going?"

Charles hesitated, finally shrugging. He started the engine and roared away.


	30. Chapter 30

Continued references to "The Life You Save." Yeah, I may screw up the facts some, but it's all in the name of creativity!

**************************************************

_I seriously need to have my head examined._

Jessie thought about her unplanned trip to the front as she found herself wrist deep in someone's intestines, flinching as a shell exploded nearby, showering her and the open wound with debris. Other wounded lay screaming for help nearby, the orderlies doing what they could. Charles barked orders nearby as she assisted him.

_What in the world was I thinking?_ _I should have stayed in camp._

Deep down inside, Jessie knew she would have gone anyway, especially after she watched Charles work like a madman. She worried about what he was doing to himself. And especially why he was doing it.

Hell, if anything, it kept her mind off her own problems!

Col. Potter, furious that they had left without permission, tracked them down and demanded they return as soon as the fighting eased. Charles refused to talk to him, so Jessie found herself holding the receiver several inches away from her ear as the colonel cussed and roared. Thankfully, not many of the wounded were routed to the 4077th, so they were not needed at camp. Jessie hated to think what would happen if they had been. Or what Major Houlihan would do to her after she got back, for that matter.

She didn't know how much time passed, but finally, the last soldier was stabilized and bussed away. Wearily, she leaned against what was left of the thatch wall, grateful for a moment's rest and that the bombing had temporarily ceased. She focused across the small room littered with bloody gauze and towels at Charles leaned in close to a dying soldier. Jessie couldn't make out what was being said. After a few minutes, Charles hung his head and closed the soldier's eyes.

She looked away, feeling like an intruder in a private scene.

Wearily, Charles rose and shook hands with the aid station doctor. After saying her good-byes, she followed him out the door. The ambulance had been pressed into service, so they climbed into an available jeep and roared into the night.

The loud motor and rough road weren't conducive to conversation, so Jessie remained silent, trying to figure out the whole point to this trip. It wasn't like Charles to throw himself into a dangerous situation needlessly. Did that make him a coward? Perhaps. Jessie liked to think not. He was thoughtful, never doing anything before knowing all positives and negatives attached to that action. It was frustrating at times, but she admired him for never flying headfirst into a situation without knowing all the facts.

Like she would.

*****************************************************

Charles watched her out of the corner of his eye. She looked deep in thought, occasionally chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, a habit he found quite endearing. Through the entire ordeal, he found it comforting to know she was standing across from him. Occasionally, he would look up to find her watching him. When his eyes met hers, she would immediately look away. Instead of angering him, it made him feel a little less alone. Ever since Christmas, he had tried his best to open up to her a little more, but it went against everything he had ever known or thought about himself. He wanted to thank her for coming with him, but would have to think about how to bring it up.

The engine sputtered and coughed, bringing him back to reality. Cursing, he pulled to the shoulder of the road. The engine died, and refused to turn over, no matter how many oaths he muttered.

Jessie looked at him, alarmed. She found herself trying to peer through the inky darkness, wondering what exactly was out there.

He finally banged on the steering wheel in frustration, startling her. _This day just continues getting worse. . ._

"Now what?" she asked. She didn't know how far away they were from camp, but anything seemed better than sitting in this jeep in the middle of nowhere. "Leave the jeep here and take off on foot?"

He sighed in frustration. "Do you really want to right now?"

She peered down the pitch-black road and shuddered. "Not really."

"Wait until morning, then?"

Jessie gulped. Sleeping on the side of the road with nothing but Charles's side arm for protection didn't seem much better. "You're the boss."

He climbed from the jeep and walked around to assist her. She almost laughed aloud at his gentlemanly behavior in their current predicament. But, at the steely look in his eyes, she kept quiet.

Tired and hungry, they settled on the ground next to the jeep, Charles offering her an extra sweater he had brought. Jessie shook her head, so he put it on over his bloody fatigues.

He rummaged in his pocket and came out with a can of tuna. "Swiped it from the kitchen before I left."

They shared the meager meal in silence, settling down for the night. She shivered in the cool air. Preoccupied, he reached over and pulled her close. Thankful for the warmth, although surprised by his behavior after he had been so aloof, she settled against his side. Before long, she drifted to sleep, soothed by his breathing and the soft feel of his sweater against her cheek.

********************************

She woke at one point, stiff from sitting on the ground. Her tired gaze settled on his hands listlessly fingering a piece of material. Jessie reached out and took it, surprised when he didn't resist.

Studying the standard Army-issue cap in her hands, she straightened it out and saw it. The hole at the back near the crease. She stuck her finger into the space, realization dawning.

"The sniper," she whispered, looking at him. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

He took the hat out of her hand and put it in his pocket. "It's not a big issue."

"Well, it obviously means a great deal to you."

Charles remained silent, so Jessie pressed on, knowing she probably wouldn't get another opening. "What about the boy in post-op a couple of days ago? Or, the soldier at the aid station? What was that all about?"

"Nothing at all," he said in a haughty tone.

She pulled away, miffed, expecting his reaction, but annoyed by it just the same. "You've been moping around camp for days. Everyone thinks it's Martene, but I know that's not it . . ."

He had almost forgotten about Martene, and his momentary sense of loss bothered him. He found himself taking his frustrations out on the one person who was right in front of him. "You are the most persistent woman I've ever known!" he said, raising his voice. It echoed in the cool night air. "I can deal with it on my own!"

Taken aback, she started to rise. "Fine! You do that! You're obviously already doing a _great_ job of it!" She walked to the hood of the jeep and scanned the darkness.

Well . . .eff. Where was she going to go now?

Charles could have kicked himself. It was first nature for him to shove away any efforts at communication when it came to his own personal demons. But, he had to talk to someone. After all, she had helped him face his demons before.

"Wait!"

She stopped. "What?" she barked, not turning around, but hoping he was stopping her. Sleeping by herself in this wilderness gave her the creeps.

He took a ragged breath. "I never told you about my brother, did I?"

She turned around on her heel. "A . . .a brother? But, I thought . . ."

She found herself starting to understand and watched him for a moment as he struggled for composure.

Unbidden, she settled again next to him.

He held her close as he told her about his brother that died when he was much younger, about how he couldn't walk by his empty room without being gripped with fear of death and what it brings. When he was done, he pressed his lips against her hair, closing his eyes against the sweet smell of her.

"Did your trip to the aid station help?" she finally asked, wishing she could say something – anything - to take away a lifetime of fear.

Charles took a deep breath. "I don't know. The soldier said . . . he said he smelled bread before . . . he died." He cleared his throat. "It's always . . . difficult for me to talk about such . . . these things. My family isn't exactly one for . . .for speaking about feelings and emotions."

"We're all worried about you. You've been wandering around camp with a look plastered all over your face that I haven't seen since . . . since . . ."

"Since when?"

"Well. Since I was shot."

She could feel his demeanor change, his grip on her tightening just briefly before he relaxed.

"What about you? Are you afraid? Of death?"

Jessie buried her face against his chest, wondering how to reply. And why he changed the subject so abruptly. She breathed deep, memorizing his scent. It had a calming effect on her frazzled nerves. "Growing up on a large-scale, working farm, I saw life and death all the time. It's really no different for humans, I suppose." She thought of her mother's suffering. "I guess _how_ I die scares me more than anything."

"You know what's amusing? Your father's net worth rivals mine, yet we were raised so differently. Our views on life are polar opposites at times."

"I wouldn't have made it two minutes in your house."

Charles, saddened by her admission and not wanting to press the reasons why, changed the subject yet again. "What about where we go afterwards?"

Jessie shrugged. "I guess it's what you make of it. The soldier at the aid station's heaven was of his mother's kitchen, bread baking in the oven. I guess yours would be filled with classical music. Not from records, but the real thing. And good cognac."

"Yes, with no Pierce or Hunnicutt to interfere."

She chuckled against his chest, finding herself getting sleepy again. "I guess that would be hell, huh?"

"It most certainly is. So, what about you? What would be in your heaven?"

"I used to think it was in Iowa."

Charles's back stiffened, but Jessie didn't notice.

"But, now I don't know. As long as it's not here." She yawned.

He rubbed her arm, trying to lighten the mood. "You can't tell me my company is so dreadful that you'd rather be anywhere else."

She chuckled, her breath warm on his chest. "No, silly. I mean Korea. This . . with you is actually . . . actually not so bad." She drifted off to sleep.

Charles remained awake, idly playing with the ends of her hair, listening to the sound of her even breathing. Although they were stuck in a dangerous situation thousands of miles from home, he was content holding her as she slept against his chest.

She was right. It really wasn't so bad.

*****************************************

"Sir?"

"Yes, Klinger?" Col. Potter was more than a little exasperated. It was in the middle of the night, two of his staff had gone temporarily insane by volunteering for the front, and to top it all off, Mildred had minor surgery today, and he wasn't there for her.

Klinger fidgeted in the doorway of Col. Potter's office. "Just remember, I didn't have anything to do with it. I'm just a messenger."

Col. Potter took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Spit it out, Corporal."

Klinger sighed. "You know how you told Major Winchester and Lieutenant Callahan to get back here immediately when they were done at the aid station?"

"Yeah?"

"And they did what you said. They left immediately when they were done . . ."

The Colonel did not like where this was going.

"About five hours ago."

"_What_?" Colonel Potter roared.

"They left the aid station almost five hours ago. Hadn't been heard from since."

Col. Potter flung his glasses on the top of his desk. "Damn!"

"Do you want me to go look for them?" Klinger really didn't want to leave the relative safety of the camp, but he thought he should offer.

"Not with the enemy activity that's been going on around here lately. The fewer of my staff running around the countryside, the better." He thumbed through some papers on his desk, thinking. Finally, he reached a decision.

"Klinger, call I-Corp. Tell them we have a doctor and nurse MIA. Tell them to contact everyone in the area to keep an eye out for them."

"Yes, sir!" Klinger turned on his heel and immediately got to work.

Col. Potter leaned back in his chair. "God help them both."

****************************************

Chirping woke Jessie the next morning.

Never a morning person, especially _this_ morning, she debated taking Charles's pistol and shooting the happily singing bird.

At first, she didn't know where she was. The scratchy ground was rough on her cheek, so she sat up, testing sore muscles and looked around.

_Rriiight._

Charles was lying behind her, his arm heavy around her waist. Sometime during the night, they gave up sitting and settled together on the ground beside the jeep.

He stirred next to her and groaned as he tried to rise. "Oh, great."

"What? Don't tell me something _else_ is wrong!"

He grimaced. "My back."

Jessie stiffly rose, brushing dust from her clothes, still stained with blood from the aid station. Together, they worked him into a sitting position. She plopped down wearily next to him.

"No walking, right?"

"Not even close."

Jessie blew hair out of her face. "What do we do? Wait for a patrol to come by?"

Charles shifted and made a face against the pain. "Try to see if you can crank this piece of junk again."

"Don't count on it."

"Who knows? Maybe the jeep fairy came last night and fixed it."

Jessie fixed her eyes on him, wondering how he could make jokes at a time like this. Without warning, a giggle bubbled up from deep inside. "Or maybe the elves. You know, like in the story about the cobbler and the shoes."

"Maybe they wear little green uniforms." He enjoyed the pure merriment that danced in her eyes.

"Army elves! I love it!"

"No laughing! It hurts!"

"Maybe there're elves around here to fix that, too!" Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she collapsed into another fit of giggles.

A noise startled them into silence. She gripped Charles arm in sudden fear, all laughter vanished.

"Did you hear that?" A hollow sensation settled into the pit of her stomach.

"I – I did. I don't think it was elves, either."

Jessie resisted the urge to bury her head in his jacket and hide, craving comfort. Instead, she crawled to the front of the jeep and peeked hesitantly around the bumper, Charles peering after her.

Immediately, she scooted back, her heart beating wildly.

"Chinese!" she whispered, terrified.

He paled. "How many? A patrol?"

She shook her head violently. "N-no. Only two, maybe three. They . . . they were headed this way."

"Did they see you?" Charles tried to get up, but winced at the pain in his back.

"I-I don't think s-so." Jessie was so scared, her teeth were chattering. "But, they obviously w-will see this j-jeep and . . ." She rose to her knees. "We've got to hide!" She pulled on his arm while she talked, trying to haul him to safety.

He tried to stop her, but in her panicked state of mind, she just tried harder.

"Damn it, Jessamyn, listen to me!" Charles hissed, wrenching his arm lose. He unbuckled the holster from his waist. "Take this, and go!"

Jessie stared at him incredulously. "You've gotta be kidding! I'm not going to _leave_ you here!" She hadn't been this terrified since Yung Lee had a knife to her neck.

He shoved the gun belt into her hand, forcing her to take it and pointed towards the woods a short distance away. "Go. I can stall them long enough for you to get away."

Her mind reeled. "No . . .I . . .you . . ."

Charles grabbed her arm and pulled her close, trying desperately to reason with her. "Listen to me. You can't stay. You know what they can do to you."

Jessie nodded dumbly, fighting tears.

"I can't go with you because I'll slow you down. So the only option is for you to _go alone_."

Charles spoke in an even tone, but Jessie could see the fear in his eyes.

She pressed the gun to his chest. "You keep this . . ."

"If they find me armed, they'll just take it away. If you have it, it might do you some good. Now, go!" He almost shoved her towards the woods.

Jessie shook her head dumbly, panic twisting her mind into a jumbled mess. "Charles . . ."

Impulsively, he reached for her again, grabbing the front of her jacket and pulling her to him.

And he kissed her.

Her mind not quite grasping the strange turn this morning had taken, Jessie put her hands on either side of his face as the kiss deepened, her tears finally falling, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

Just as quickly as he pulled her close, he pushed her away. From him. Towards safety. "Go!" he whispered vehemently.

Running on auto pilot, Jessie ran into the woods, bent over at the waist to avoid detection. With one last glance at him propped against the back wheel of the jeep, she lunged into the safety of the trees, fighting the terror rising in her throat.

Charles watched her go, willing her on, still tasting her tears. When she stopped, he wanted to yell at her to run, but didn't want to draw attention to her retreat. Finally, she dove into the brush, the holster clutched in her hand.

_She was safe._

He slumped in relief.

Charles was never one for bravery, but the thought of those Chinese hooligans getting their hands on her was enough to make her safety his first priority. And now, he would pay the consequences, whatever they shall be.

He tried to rise. The least he could do is face his fate with dignity. However, his back wasn't allowing it, and he sank to the ground in defeat.

He could hear them talking among themselves, their shuffling feet drawing closer. _Soon, they would walk towards the jeep and find him sitting here. Then . . . what?_

Charles broke out into a cold sweat and shut his eyes tightly.

_My parents. My sister. Boston._

_Jessamyn_.

He didn't know why he thought of her. He didn't know why he had kissed her.

Yes . . . he did.

But, she was always O'Reilly's. Now that she wasn't, he didn't know if she would have him.

_Not that it would matter in a few precious moments anyway. _

The chatter neared the jeep and stopped. Charles opened his eyes, breathing evenly, trying to still his rapidly beating heart. It was thumping so wildly, he almost convinced himself they could hear it.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eyes.

_This is it._

One of the soldiers snuck around the side of the jeep cautiously, rifle held protectively. When he spotted Charles, he was so startled, he yelled and fired before he could fully aim.

The shot ricocheted off the ground and dug into Charles's left upper arm, knocking him back against the jeep. He wanted to cry out, but found the pain so excruciating that any noise eluded him.

The whole incident took only a couple of seconds, but felt like an eternity. By now, the other two soldiers had joined their comrade, all talking in excited voices.

Charles gripped his arm and tried not to look at the blood seeping though his fingers. He flexed his left hand. It hurt like hell, but at least he could still move it.

The one with the gun broke away from the group and walked to the nearby woods, searching for other threats, leaving the other two watching Charles warily, both of them unarmed. He had heard that the enemy was having trouble outfitting all their troops, but these men looked mean enough even without weapons.

He hoped Jessie was far, far away by now.

"Umm, gentlemen. If I could call you gentlemen," Charles managed between clenched teeth. "I'm a doctor." He pointed to the red cross on the bag beside him, willing them to understand. "I'm not going to harm you."

_How in the hell had it come to this?_

The soldier with the gun returned, eyeing Charles suspiciously. He swallowed hard at the menacing look. "Although your animosity is quite obvious."

There was more discussion between the men as Charles tried not to panic. They rummaged through the jeep, taking what they could find once they realized it wouldn't crank, and Charles felt a ray of hope. _Maybe they'll leave me. Alive._

After more discussion, the soldier with the gun leveled it on Charles.


	31. Chapter 31

Jessie hadn't gone far when she heard the shot echoing through the woods. She stopped in her tracks, sweat and tears trickling down her face. She waited for another one, but it never came. She waited for yelling and screaming, but that never came, either.

Nothing.

Only silence.

Wiping her dripping nose with her sleeve, she realized she still clutched the gun belt in her hand. She looked stupidly at it.

Doggedly, she turned. _They'll leave the body. I can . . ._

She didn't want to think about what she would do when she found him. She just knew she couldn't leave him there. On the side of the road.

Dead.

_Dear God!_

Quietly, trying to control the shaking that threatened to overcome her, she crept back the way she had come, hiding in a clump of bushes on the edge of the thicket, the gun belt gripped tightly in both hands.

She almost sobbed aloud when she saw that he was alive and had to bite her lip until she tasted blood to keep quiet. The Chinese were rummaging through the jeep. One even rooted around underneath the hood.

She looked down at the pistol in her lap. She knew she couldn't hit anything from this distance. Removing it from the holster, she tucked it in the back of her pants behind her jacket, not wanting it in her hands any longer.

When the soldier with the rifle took aim at Charles, she did gasp aloud, absolutely forgetting to be quiet.

*************************************

_I'm going to die in this godforsaken place_.

Charles met the gaze of the Chinese soldier.

_I hope I don't suffer. I hope my family misses me. I hope she gets back to camp. I hope she finds someone who makes her happy. I hope . . ._

Rustling from the woods startled them all, and the gunman swung away from him. He leaned heavily against the jeep, trying to remember to breathe.

Relief was short-lived once he saw who it was.

Jessie ran, arms pumping and head down. She collapsed in front of Charles, who was so shocked he couldn't speak.

"_Stop_ it! Just _stop_ it right now!" she yelled, facing the enemy from her position on the ground.

Even the Chinese looked too shocked to do anything.

"Jess . . ."

Without turning around, she reached behind her to shush him. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her back where the handle of the pistol rested as she ranted.

"How _dare_ all of you! You don't kill a defenseless man on the side of the road. Geez! He's never done anything to you!"

She sobbed aloud, trying to catch her breath, knowing they couldn't understand a word she was saying. She could feel Charles remove the gun carefully, his hand still pressed onto her back to make it appear he was trying to calm her. The Chinese didn't look like they realized, so intent were they on the crazy American woman.

Jessie continued her rant, although she didn't have to try to hard to pretend to be scared.

"He's not supposed to die here! He's supposed to go home to his family and listen to symphonies and be the best surgeon at Boston! Then, he'll get married and have babies and grow old and travel the world. Don't you _dare_ take that from him!" She knew she was babbling, but didn't care. Anything to distract the Chinese.

Especially the one with the rifle.

And, she was waiting for a sign from Charles that he was going to use that damn pistol!

By now, the soldiers had regained their composure at her interruption. Resolutely, the gunman shrugged, raising the rifle.

Jessie immediately stopped talking, eyes wide.

_OK, maybe Charles didn't get the point. . ._

With his injured arm, Charles grabbed the back of Jessie's jacket, yanking her out of the way. She fell against the side of the jeep, bracing herself for gunfire. With his other arm, he leveled the pistol at the gunman and pulled the trigger.

Before the surprised soldier could notice the stain spreading on his chest, the other two yelped, jumping back in surprise. They both lunged for the rifle as the wounded man fell to the ground.

But, Jessie was faster. She leapt from Charles's side and grabbed the rifle, training it on the other two. "Get down! Now!"

Stunned, they put their hands behind their heads and got down on their knees as their fallen counterpart gasped for breath.

Jessie held the barrel steady as she peered at them through the sight.

_C'mon, Callahan, just pull the damned trigger. Pretend they're deer. That's right, they're deer._ _You've shot plenty of game. Just shoot and get it over with._

She didn't even hear the platoon of British soldiers come up behind her, so intent was she on the crosshairs.

"Lieutenant?" the platoon leader said, approaching her cautiously. The remaining men held back.

Charles saw her finger tighten on the trigger. He knew he had to stop her before she did something she regretted. He sat the pistol aside, palms sweaty.

"Jessamyn."

No response. She didn't even act like she heard him.

"Jessamyn, look at me."

****************************

She blinked. Her father called her by her given name. So did Mattie, at least when she was mad.

_Home._

And Charles. He always used it, preferring it to the shortened version. He had told her that her name was too beautiful to abbreviate.

She let the barrel of the gun drop, much to the relief of the Chinese. And the British.

She turned around. His eyes searched hers, but he remained silent, paltry words of comfort dying in his throat at the sheer panic on her face.

One of the British soldiers reached for her rifle. Jessie jumped at his touch. Dumbstruck, she finally noticed the others standing around, warily eyeing her. Willingly, she gave up the piece.

Once it was gone, all sense of bravery vanished. She sank to the ground, giving into the sobs that had threatened. The British soldiers looked at each other, wondering what to do with the weeping American woman.

Charles struggled to rise, but couldn't. Cursing his back, he motioned towards her. "C'mere, baby, it's alright."

Blinded by tears, Jessie practically crawled the short distance between them. When he wrapped his good arm around her, she sobbed even harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I . . . th-thought . . . he . . . I was . . . .g-goin' to . . . shoot . . ." she sputtered helplessly.

"Shh. You're just fine. You're safe now." He pressed his lips to her temple and hair, anything to soothe her.

A medic moved towards him, but he waved him away, motioning towards the dead Chinese soldier. _The man he had killed . ._ . Charles turned away from the sight, burying his face in her hair as she sobbed, letting his tears mingle with hers.

*******************************

The British had them taken to the 8055th because of its close proximity. They were both quiet throughout the bus ride to the unit, Jessie refusing to let the medics onboard touch him. She bandaged his arm herself, grateful for the distraction. For the remainder of the ride, they practically clung to each other, exhausted, as the medical personnel onboard watched curiously.

Once at the 8055th, Jessie was reluctantly led to the mess tent while the staff tended to Charles in post-op. She looked so forlorn that he resisted his first reaction to kiss her again before she left. Instead, he squeezed her hand as she was led away.

"Boy, you two sure had everyone upset around here," the doctor said as he cleaned Charles's wound. "I think every patrol within a 50-miles radius was informed you were MIA."

Charles watched him carefully, making sure he made no mistakes. _I wish the guy would shut up and do his job._

The doctor gestured towards the door. "You must have had some experience out there. The British soldiers you came in with said she had the three Chinese guys pinned down with their own rifle." He shook his head in amazement as he cleaned out the wound, making Charles grit his teeth, although he was loaded with pain killers. "I bet you two put up some fight."

He looked at Charles, waiting for a reply, but Charles just nodded his head. The doctor shrugged and continued his work, thankfully falling silent.

His wound was not serious, and the doctor declared he could return to surgery in a week, maybe less, good as new.

Jessie cautiously walked in as the doctor was leaving, a tray from the mess tent in her hands. She laid the tray aside and helped him put on his jacket over his bandaged arm. Carefully, he sat back down on the examining table. Jessie settled next to him, placing the tray in her lap.

"What did he say?"

"You mean, what _didn't_ he say."

He earned a small smile on Jessie's wan face. "Talker, huh?"

Charles shook his head wearily, taking the tray from her. "I'll be fine. Nothing major is injured. And, apparently, our escapades into Korea have reached epic proportions. No telling what Colonel Potter has heard." He dug into the food, glad for anything to eat after the long day and night they had. "Good to know the 8055 eats no better than we do."

Jessie kept looking at her hands.

"Did you eat?"

She nodded. "How's your back?"

"Better. Painkillers helped."

They sat in silence while he ate, Charles growing concerned as he watched her listlessly study her hands. When he was finished, he laid the tray aside.

"Tired?"

Jessie nodded. "Yeah, a little."

He gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes.

"OK. A lot."

He reached out his arm, and she gladly leaned into his chest tiredly. He held her tightly, wondering how he could feel such elation at having her so close after what they had been through.

The pain medication and lack of adrenaline was taking its toll, as well as the feel of her warm body on his, and his eyes grew heavy.

Jessie broke the comfortable silence. "You know, the aid station feels like such a long time ago, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it does."

"Do you still have the cap?"

"Huh?" he said, confused.

"You know, the one you brought with you. With the . . ." She didn't finish. Talking about bullets made her think of the three Chinese soldiers.

_Don't go there._

Charles reluctantly let go of Jessie long enough to rummage in his pocket and extract the cap. Jessie took it from him and studied it for a moment. She leaned over and placed it on the head of a dummy skeleton in the corner before settling in his arms again.

"Was that necessary?" Charles asked, his mind a little foggy.

"I just don't think you'll need it anymore."

"Really?"

"Really. You faced your fears. And won."

He took a sharp breath, remembering the surprised look on the Chinese soldier's face. The one he had killed. He buried his face in Jessie's hair, breathing deeply.

She could feel him trying to compose himself. "Charles?"

"Mmm?"

"You did the right thing."

"I killed him."

"It was either him or us."

He held her tighter.

Her soft voice was so muffled, he had to strain to hear. "I almost shot two _defenseless_ men. I was trying to convince myself they were animals."

"You wouldn't have done it."

"You don't think so?"

"No."

"Because you stopped me."

"You still wouldn't have done it. You're not like them."

"They were going to kill you, Charles. I wanted them to suffer." Jessie was surprised by the venom in her voice. "When I heard that gunshot, I thought you were dead. I was coming back to get. . ." She could feel the panic rising again and clenched her fists, trying to fight it.

"I wish I were as brave as you."

"Me? Brave? I was a sobbing, sniffling idiot back there!"

"If you ever tell Hawkeye this, I'll deny it profusely. But if it's one thing he's taught me, it's that being brave doesn't mean you're not scared. You do what needs to be done. Like you did when you stepped between O'Reilly and that crazy woman. Or back there on the side of the road."

He leaned away from her until he could see her, placing his finger lightly underneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his. "In fact, you're the bravest person I know."

As she held her breath, he traced her jaw with the tip of his finger, a soft look in his eyes.

Her stomach grew tense.

_He's going to kiss me again. _

_Strange. I think I want him to._

"Boy, am I glad to see you! Hey, Colonel, they're in here!" Klinger burst through the double doors, oblivious to what he interrupted, followed by Col. Potter.

Relieved at the diversion, Jessie jumped from the table into Klinger's arms. He swung her around the room as she laughed.

"Klinger! You certainly are a sight for sore eyes! But, I'm going to puke if you don't stop spinning me around!"

Klinger put her down, but not before he kissed her noisily on both cheeks. "You're beautiful, just beautiful!"

"You're not so bad yourself!" Jessie said, trying to catch her breath. She spotted Col. Potter inspecting Charles's arm. The colonel stuck his finger in her face.

"Don't say a word! I'm trying not to flog you both for running off! Nearly drove me to drink with all your running around!"

Jessie knew they were in a heap of trouble. She didn't dare look at Charles, so she studied her filthy boots.

"Colonel?"

Col. Potter turned towards Charles. "Wait your turn, Major! I'm not through lamblasting the Lieutenant, yet!"

Charles cleared his throat. "It's good to see you, too."

A large smile erupted across Col. Potter's face. "You, too, Winchester." He gruffly reached for Jessie and gave her a quick hug. "Now, let's get the two of you home where you belong. And what's all this about Jessie wrestling with a Chinese platoon?"

**************************************

Col. Potter leaned back in his chair, which groaned and creaked under the extra stress. He whistled through his teeth. "Lieutenant, it sounds like to me you had one helluva past 24 hours. Whatta you say, Corporal?"

"Yeah, it's definitely one to tell your grandkids about." Klinger was rapidly writing, trying to keep up with Jessie's version of what had happened from the aid station to the 8055. Charles was absent, due to the fact he had fallen asleep on the ride back to camp. She and Klinger had hauled him straight to the Swamp when they returned, ignoring concerned looks from his bunkmates.

Jessie rubbed her weary eyes. "I could have lived without it."

Col. Potter watched her closely. "I know it seems like ages ago, but did you ever figure out what was eating Winchester in the first place?"

Jessie blew her hair out of her face, choosing her words carefully. "The same thing that bugs us all. Death, dying, you name it." She paused, not wanting to give up a confidence. "He just . . .he's not able to express his emotions like the rest of us." She shrugged. "But, you already knew that."

Col. Potter seemed satisfied with her answer. He straightened up in his chair. "That'll be all. Get some sleep. You sure look like you can use it. Oh, before I forget?"

"Yes, sir?"

His kind eyes watched her carefully. "Sidney's here. He said he's always willing to talk."

"Charles seemed like he'd be alright."

"What about you?"

"Me, sir?"

"You've had a rough few weeks lately. You alright?"

"I . . . guess so."

Seemingly satisfied, Col. Potter returned to his chair.

Klinger watched the swinging doors until they stopped. "I don't know what in the world Radar was thinking letting her go. Any man worth their salt would have fought to keep her."

The Colonel reached inside his drawer and pulled out a new cigar. "You got that right. I just wonder what Winchester's thinking."

"You saw them, too? On the way back to camp?"

"They were a might bit clingy, weren't they?"

Klinger shrugged. "They'd been through a lot."

"I don't know, Klinger. I just don't know."

"You do know she was lying about being OK, don't you?"

Colonel Potter studied the swinging doors for a moment. "Didn't take Radar to figure that one out."

******************************

Hawkeye and B.J. were waiting in her tent. Wearily, she flopped on the cot, not even feeling like arguing with their presence.

Hawkeye handed her a drink, which she gratefully took and sipped.

"What happened?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

She recounted the story. When she got to the part where the Chinese arrived, she started shaking. She set the glass down with a thunk and clasped her hands together, hoping they didn't notice.

"I didn't even really have a plan. It just . . . just struck me as totally unfair that he had to . . ." Resolutely, she grabbed the glass again and gulped its contents down, composing herself. "I actually went back for . . . for his body. I thought he was . . . dead when I heard the shot." _I will not cry, I will not cry. . ._

B.J. and Hawkeye looked at each other. "Go on."

In as monotone of a voice as she could manage, Jessie finished the story, only wavering when she started telling them about wanting to kill the remaining two soldiers.

"Charles told me that I wouldn't have done it. But, guys, I don't know! If he weren't there to stop me, I really do think I would have shot them in cold blood. I guess that makes me . . .makes me just like them. Doesn't it?"

Hawkeye put his hand on her shoulder. "You do realize if Charles wasn't there, you wouldn't have come back to help him. You'd have been long gone by then. You were just reacting to someone threatening someone you . . ."

B.J. glanced at Hawkeye, a warning look in his eyes.

"A friend," he finished lamely.

Jessie didn't notice the exchange. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "It's so different from when I . . . when Yung Lee . . . Then, I knew exactly what I was doing. This time, I couldn't think or reason. All I knew was that Charles was dead or hurt, and I had to do something. Anything!"

B.J. crossed his arms. "I hope you're on my side when it comes down to it. I could use the back-up."

"I've had it with heroics! I've never done so many stupid things in my life!" She yawned. "How is he? Charles, I mean?"

"He was sawing logs when we left. Between him and Sidney, it's kinda hard to sleep. That's why we came to see you. Couldn't wait 'til morning to get the whole poop."

"Thanks, guys, for the drink. I'm going to take a shower, maybe. . ." She yawned. "I think I'll get some sleep."

"Sweet dreams," Hawkeye called as they sauntered out the door. But, Jessie didn't even hear, she was already curled up on the bed, dirty clothes and all.

******************************

Only 17 chappies to go!


	32. Chapter 32

_The camp was the same. But then, it wasn't. _

_Everyone was dressed in their finest, dancing gracefully in the middle of the compound, just like a grand ball back home. Charles looked down at his own formal attire, glad to be wearing anything but the dreadful fatigues. _

_The couples seemed happy and carefree as the quartet played, seemingly out-of-place with the griminess of their surroundings. He saw familiar faces, smiling as they danced by him, laughing and talking, not a care in the world. Content to watch, he tapped his foot along to the rhythm of the small orchestra._

_As he watched, the crowd parted. _

_Jessamyn walked towards him, wearing a simple red gown, the train thrown over her arm. Her hair was free. He touched it, ran his fingers through it, reveling in her beauty. She smiled, a playful look in her eyes she never used towards him._

_He took her in his arms, and they danced around the compound, almost floating on air. The rest of the camp disappeared, a thick fog rolling about them, but they still danced to the music in their minds, their eyes never leaving each other._

_The fog thickened. She was gone! Panicked, he searched, his hands waving in front of him, calling her name._

_He found the OR. Everyone was scrubbing up frantically. He asked if they had seen her, pleaded with them to tell her where she was, but everyone shook their heads and pointed. Towards the operating room._

_He rushed through the double doors. Only one table was occupied. Father Mulcahey was covering the deceased with a sheet, finished with the last rights. _

_A long red train fell in folds from underneath it._

_He stopped Charles before he could pull it away. Charles shrugged him off, frantically pulling back the blood-soaked sheet. _

_There was no one underneath._

_He heard a scream._

_Panicked, he ran into the compound, wincing as bullets whizzed past his ear. He kept thinking he saw her, running from patient to patient, still holding her train over her arm. Each time he caught up to her, she was gone, disappearing into the blackness that swallowed everything in its path._

Incoherent yelling pierced through the darkness of the Swamp.

Hawkeye sat bolt upright in bed, fumbling for the lamp above his bed. "Wha . . ."

Sidney was already up, trying his best to calm Charles, as B.J. looked on.

"Where is she, damn it? She's gone, isn't she?" Charles repeated in a shaky voice.

"Who, Winchester? Who's gone?" Sidney said calmly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He touched Charles on the arm, but the surgeon jumped back, not wanting to be comforted.

"Jessamyn! She's dead, isn't she? I saw her . . ."

Sidney looked up at his bunkmates, a worried look on his face. "She's just fine. She was asleep when Hawkeye and B.J. last saw her." The pair nodded their heads in unison, not accustomed to their normally stoic bunkmate in such a chaotic state.

Charles shook his head violently. "No, you don't _understand_!"

'Go get her,' Sidney mouthed towards B.J.

B.J. trotted to Jessie's tent and threw open the door. She was still asleep in the same position as when they left. He shook her arm. "Jess! Wake up!"

She struggled to sit up, rubbing her eyes. "Wounded? I didn't hear the PA."

"It's Charles."

Jessie paled.

"He's OK, but he's talking out of his head. Sidney said to come get you."

"I'm right behind you."

She followed him to the Swamp. She could hear Charles arguing with Sidney before they arrived.

"Look, I'm not crazy! I saw her! There was blood . . ."

Charles turned towards the creaking noise of the opening door. The wild look on his face startled her, and she halted in the doorway behind B.J.

He took a deep breath, finally seeming to see things around him coherently. He put his head in his hands, breathing erratically. "God, I _am_ crazy. It was so . . . _real_ . . ."

Jessie looked at the other three men quizzically. Hawkeye leaned over. "You're supposed to be dead," he whispered.

Sidney nodded in agreement. "We couldn't convince him otherwise."

She went to him, settling across from him in his desk chair, the smell of terror heavy about them. He didn't acknowledge her presence as he tried to compose himself.

Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his knee, willing him to look at her.

Charles wanted to pull her to him and breathe in the scent of her to convince himself she was truly still among the living. Mentally, he chided himself for being so preposterous. He did manage to intertwine his fingers with hers tightly, continuing to stare at the floor.

No one spoke as they watched.

Finally, he mustered enough courage to look up, knowing he'd need every ounce of strength to not touch her when he laid eyes on her. As expected, her beautiful green eyes were full of compassion and concern. She gave him a hesitant smile, and he longed to kiss her again, wanting her to chase away his demons.

Sidney motioned towards the door, and Hawkeye and B.J. nodded, understanding.

Charles finally broke the silence. "That's not necessary, gentlemen," he said in a shaky voice. "I need to . . . to get some fresh air."

Despite warnings to himself, he put his hands on either side of her head and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to her forehead, not caring that everyone saw.

His touch was so gentle, it brought tears to Jessie's eyes. She squeezed them shut to keep them at bay.

He let her go. They all watched him walk into the darkness, his shoulders sagging.

"What happened out there?" Sidney asked.

Jessie rubbed her fingers on both temples, a dull ache forming behind her eyes. "Ask Hawkeye and B.J. I've _got_ to get some sleep." She stood up, swaying for a moment with fatigue.

"They've already told me, Lieutenant."

"I'm a bit exhausted, so you're going to have to spell out for me what you want."

Sidney thought a moment, forming his words carefully. "Well, if I remember correctly, Winchester hated Korea and everyone in it. And you're in love with O'Reilly."

Jessie felt her heart lurch in her chest. _Funny. I haven't thought about him at all in - what? - a few hours? _"Until . . ."

"Until he married someone else. I know that, too."

"Boy, nothing gets by you, does it?"

Sidney rocked back on his heels, not deterred by her caustic remarks. "This place intrigues me. Not only do all of you function under tremendous pressure, you seem to flourish, the best and worst parts of your personality merging to form a working team."

"Even Charles?" Hawkeye asked.

Sidney nodded. "Even him. I've seen a more human side to him tonight than I'd ever seen in him during his time here. It seems to be brought on by . . . by you, Lieutenant."

Jessie's eyes widened. "Look, Dr. Freeman, I don't know what you were talking about. There was nothing . . . nothing happened!"

_And, he kissed me._ She cleared her throat, trying to banish the memory. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Jessie welcomed the cool night air on her face as she retreated to her tent.

Sidney looked at B.J. and Hawkeye. "Did any of you see this coming?"

"I don't even think _they've_ seen it coming," B.J. answered with a shrug.

***********************************

Margaret gave her double-duty for a week as punishment for running off to the aid station without permission. While she wasn't working, she managed to crawl back to her bunk and pass out from pure exhaustion, only to be awakened by Klinger a few hours later, ready to stumble back to work.

But, she didn't complain. The work kept her mind off Radar. She would grit her teeth in frustration, especially when Hawkeye got a light-hearted letter in the mail with a picture of the baby. He kept it away from her, but she heard just the same.

Most importantly, it kept her away from Charles. He was recuperating nicely, or so she had heard, and was on light duty for the time being. Except in passing, they hadn't seen each other at all since the night they were found. For that, she was grateful. Eventually, she would have to face the fact that she had come to care for Charles, perhaps more than she realized.

But, not right now. Her raw nerves just couldn't take it.

It didn't help that she couldn't get a peaceful night's sleep, either. Vivid nightmares, brought on by their encounter with the enemy, interrupted her slumber, and she would wake in a panic, hoping the screaming she was doing in her dreams was not what she was doing out loud.

One night, dragging back from the showers after another grueling day, Jessie trudged in her bathrobe and boots to her tent. That's when she heard it. The familiar sound of someone fighting terror in their sleep. She would know. She did it every night now. She paused, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

And bit her bottom lip in frustration. _The Swamp_. B.J. was on-duty in post-op when she left, and Hawkeye was romancing a new nurse down at the motor pool, despite warnings to the girl from the rest of the nurses.

_So, it had to be Charles_.

The thought of the terror-induced dreams she had been having made her shudder. She couldn't leave him alone, no matter how worried she was about facing him again.

The tossing and moaning started to turn to full-fledged panic by the time Jessie made up her mind.

She barged through the door and turned the lamp on over his bunk. The entire side of the tent was thrown in disarray as he fought an imaginary foe. Jessie knelt on the floor, avoiding books and clothes tossed about, helplessly wondering what to do.

"Charles, wake up," she said evenly, hoping she didn't draw any more attention than he already had. Avoiding his flailing arms, she finally grasped him firmly by a wrist. "Charles!" she said a little louder.

He wrenched his hand free and grabbed her upper arms, still fighting. "Hey!" Jessie said as he squeezed tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. She struggled, but couldn't free herself.

His eyes snapped opened, terror-filled, and focused on her. At the obvious pain on her face, he immediately released her. She rubbed her sore flesh, backing up a bit.

He tried to control his ragged breathing. "Did I hurt you, baby? I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . ." With obvious effort, he struggled to sit up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Oh, God, it was awful. . ."

Jessie still rubbed her bruised arms. Not big on pet names, she found herself liking the one he had chosen for her. _Watch it, Callahan ._ . .

She settled next to him, one leg tucked underneath herself. "It's just a dream. You'll be fine."

"Will I? Will I ever be normal again? Will anyone at home understand what I went through over here? Will I be able to go back to the way things were? Or will I be haunted by this retched place for the rest of my _life_?" Apprehension made him babble thoughts he normally kept to himself, fears that plagued him constantly.

Jessie didn't reply, knowing that anything she said wouldn't help.

He had missed her during the past week, but didn't dare cross Margaret and get her into more trouble. Col. Potter had gone easier on him, more than likely because he was injured. Charles figured he was the lucky one. The wrath of the head nurse was legendary.

Now that she was next to him, holding his hand, he noticed her scent envelope him. He absently rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand.

"What is that you wear?" he said, trying to chase the last of his fear away with conversation.

Jessie looked down at her robe. "You mean, the robe?" She tried not to notice his fingers lightly brushing hers.

"No, the soap."

Jessie blushed slightly. "It's lavender. I don't have very much of it, but I save it for when I'm feeling down. It makes me feel better."

"Me, too."

"Huh?"

"It makes me feel better, too."

"Why?" _Careful . . ._

Her hair, damp from her shower, curled slightly on the ends. He reached out and wrapped one strand that fell over her shoulder around his finger, enjoying the softness. He studied her, the last of his fear falling away.

She watched him carefully, her green eyes a little wary.

"You ask too many questions," he finally said brusquely. Before she could protest, he gently pulled her into his lap. Startled, she didn't think to fight him, especially when his lips met hers.

After a stunned moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck, astonished by her body's reaction to his touch. Slowly, their kiss growing in passion, his hand carefully made its way into the front of robe, and Jessie gasped, arching against his hand.

Charles groaned against her lips. Her skin was smooth, delicate against his fingers, making him wonder what the rest of her felt like. All of her. She shifted against him, and he was overcome with such a blatant need that he could have taken her right then. Trying to control himself, he pulled back, tenderly brushing his lips along her neck.

Jessie tried to catch her breath. She could feel him move her necklace away to get to the softest points.

_The necklace. _

_And what about. . .? _

Charles sensed a change and pulled back, his eyes filled with longing, searching hers.

Jessie extracted herself from his embrace, awkwardly standing. "What about Martene? I know you two weren't just playing tiddlywinks in the VIP tent only a week and a half ago. And you moped about here for days afterwards."

Trying to compose himself, Charles almost didn't know who she was talking about. It seemed like such a long time ago. "What does that have to do with . . . with our present situation?"

Jessie took a deep breath. Her skin still burned with his touch, and she tightened her robe to make it stop. "Everything! That has to be the only reason you've . . . we've . . you know! I know you miss her. And, I'm not her."

Charles stood up so quickly that she jumped back. "Don't presume to know what I feel! Especially on something you know nothing about!"

"Well, let me tell you something, buddy! I know more about it than you think. Hell, the whole camp knew about it!"

"You know what I think?"

"No, and I don't really care!" She tried to edge towards the door and safety.

"I think you're still pining over O'Reilly. He's gone. Married and a father and just plain not here anymore!"

Jessie paled, her eyes wide. "Oh, so I'm just supposed to fall into _your_ bed, since you're here and he's not? Is that it?" She didn't wait for a reply. "For your information, Winchester, I don't need you! You think all of us will fall all over ourselves because you're so rich and powerful." She stuck her finger in his chest for emphasis. "No one here cares about you, but you! Next time, deal with your nightmares yourself!" Anger heaving in her chest, she slammed out the door.

She held her head high as she walked through the small crowd drawn by the commotion. She didn't even cringe when she heard a glass shatter on the door behind her. _Very mature, Charles, very mature_.

Jessie was proud of herself. She didn't burst into tears until she slammed the door of her tent behind her.

***********************************

They eyed each other suspiciously from across post-op. So far, they had managed to work an entire shift without formally recognizing the other was there, just him giving orders and her obediently following them.

It was Charles's first day at full duty since his arm was injured. It had been easy for them to avoid each other while he was recuperating. Anticipating his return, Jessie had traded shifts to work with B.J., figuring she and Charles couldn't work together without fighting. Unfortunately, B.J. had come down with a virus, so Charles and Hawkeye took over his shifts.

_So much for anticipating_.

Jessie tried to stay busy since the night in the Swamp, which was fairly easy to do considering the work load Margaret heaped upon her. The mindless labor kept her from thinking about him. And how he had made her feel when he touched her. She tried to convince herself that she was right to push him away. The last thing she needed in this hell-on-earth was another relationship. Hadn't she learned her lesson the first damn time?

But, it still didn't make it any easier.

She sighed, resuming her paperwork.

A shadow fell across the desk, and her back stiffened. Charles reached over her shoulder and plopped a stack of paperwork on the table in front of her. "The rest of the charts, Lieutenant. See they are properly filed."

Determined, she didn't look at him, just gritted her teeth in frustration as her pencil bit into the paper. "Yes, _sir_."

"Oh, and Lieutenant? You failed to take note of Private Henderson's blood work. Please see that you note the results correctly next time."

Seething, Jessie grabbed the clipboard with the private's records out of his hands and flipped several sheets down. She thrust it back in his face. "If you remember, _Major_, the Colonel requested that all test results go on the blood work result chart in the back. New procedure." Margaret grilled them on it for a week, so she should know.

Charles snatched the clipboard back, his jaw stubbornly set. "I see, Lieutenant. Thank you for clearing that up for me."

Jessie didn't reply, only gave him a dirty look before returning to her papers.

He retreated to the other side of the room. Settling in a chair, he pretended not to watch her as she worked. Twin spots of color that had appeared high on her cheeks from their discussion faded as she focused on the task at hand, her hair falling out of a hastily arranged pony tail. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she stopped writing and studied her paperwork, thumping the pencil on the desk in thought.

When one of the wounded called out, Charles hastily looked away when she glanced up. Quickly, she went to the boy's side, talking to him in a soothing voice until he calmed. Her fingers brushed his hair from his forehead. He said something, and she smiled at him, coaxing him back to sleep.

Charles envied the man, wounds and all. He craved her touch, yet didn't know how to tell her. She had angered him by insinuating he was mistaking her for another woman. As usual, he had said things he regretted. He knew exactly what he was doing and to whom! It was she who had a problem, missing a former lover she could no longer have. O'Reilly probably didn't come close to satisfying her . . .

"Boy, you must have it bad."

Charles jumped, startled by the soldier in the bed closest to him. "Excuse me?"

The soldier listlessly scratched underneath a bandage on his arm. "You've watched her all day. Go for it, man! She's one hot broad! Bet she's feisty, too."

Thankfully, Hawkeye sauntered into post-op to take over for the next shift, so he didn't have to reply.

Charles spoke with Hawkeye momentarily and walked outside. Wearily, he leaned against the side of the building, shutting his eyes.

_How has it come to this?_

Back home, courtship consisted of heavily-chaperoned public events, perhaps a tepid kiss or two stolen on a balcony or darkened room. Even his most lustful moments were controlled, tempered by the fact he truly believed not one of those women were good enough for him, a flaw in his character, surely, but it was there nonetheless.

Nothing like this. This he could _not_ relate to. This passion and longing and unabashed delight he felt when he was with her was so . . . so visceral, so primitive. He needed her emotionally as well, almost desperately, missing her laugh and her voice.

And he _never_ needed _anyone_!

He jumped when the door to post-op flew open. Jessie hurried out, not even acknowledging his presence.

Automatically, he followed her into the mess tent, falling in line behind her. It was packed with the dinner crowd, and several nurses called out, motioning for her to sit with them. She waved in their direction half-heartedly as Igor plopped food unappealingly on her tray.

Still, she made no move to recognize him as she propped her tray on her hip, grabbing a coffee mug.

Swallowing his pride - no easy feat - Charles cleared his throat. "Jessamyn?"

She placed the mug underneath the spigot, balancing her tray. "What is it, _Major_? Something you feel the need to throw in my face?"

_This is going to be more difficult than I thought_. "I know you're angry with me -"

"_Angry_? Angry doesn't even _begin_ to describe it!" She snatched her mug, almost sloshing coffee on herself. Several people sitting nearby turned around to see what the fuss was about.

Charles ran his hand over his head, biting back angry words. "I wanted to apologize . . . for my accusatory actions during our shift." _And for what I said last night_.

Jessie slammed her tray down on a nearby table with a bang. She put her hands on her hips. "It's a little late for apologies. Don't you think?" Without another glance, she whirled around and exited the mess tent, all thoughts of dinner forgotten.

"I guess it is," he whispered to no one in particular.

Finally noticing that most everyone in the tent was watching, he glared at them all and stormed out the way he had entered.


	33. Chapter 33

References to "That's Show Biz." And, I'm going to jump decades musically here. The song is "Angel" by Sarah McLaughlin (as if you won't recognize it or something). And, I don't own any rights to it, either. You know the drill.

*********************************

The USO tour was a welcome respite from the drudgery. Not only were they new faces, but they could entertain, too!

Jessie was able to take a few minutes to enjoy the show they put on in post op, surprised to know that Major Houlihan could sing better than Radar had said she could.

One of the women heard Jessie singing along and insisted she perform one number for the wounded with them. Jessie couldn't help herself, choosing a lighthearted number that entertained the wounded and staff alike.

But, one was all she could manage, especially when she caught sight of Charles sitting with his arms crossed on the other side of the room. She recognized that look.

She saw it in the mirror everyday. Sadness, longing and anger, all rolled into one.

Glad to escape, Jessie returned to her duties, humming to the music faintly heard from post-op.

Later that evening, she followed the sound of the piano to the O Club. The USO accordion player, Justine, was pounding away at the worn keys, apparently relieving pent up aggression using Beethoven.

"Hey, you're pretty good," Jessie said, pulling up a chair.

"Not good enough to keep a crowd." Justine motioned around the empty building.

"Too early. They're still recuperating from the previous evening's festivities."

Justine stuck out her hand. "Justine Middleton. Pleased to meet you."

"Jessie Callahan." Jessie shook her hand firmly.

"I have to say, Jessie, you were fabulous in post-op today. You had those boys eating out of the palm of your hands."

Jessie blushed. "I've been singing since I was four. It's almost like second nature to me. Or, it used to be, at least. Before . . . well, before here."

"This place has that affect on you after awhile. Hell, I'm not even a nurse, and I can tell that!"

"I've always wanted to be able to play the piano, but my sister inherited all the instrumental talent." Jessie told her about her and her siblings' performances.

Justine noticed the look in her eyes. "Hey, let's try something together!"

"Oh, I don't know . . ."

She plunked a few keys. "C'mon! It'll be fun!"

Jessie sighed. "OK. Maybe just one.

"Do you know 'Angel'?"

Jessie inwardly cringed. _Not exactly a mood lifter, that one_.

Justine began playing. Dutifully, Jessie sang along. With her back to the door, she didn't hear him enter.

_Spend all your time waiting for that second chance, for a break that would make it OK; there's always some reason to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day . . ._

He had watched her walk across the compound and for some reason, had followed. She had that affect on him, making him do and say things before he cautiously thought them through.

._ . . In the arms of the angels, far away from here. In this stark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear. . . _

He stood quietly behind her, his hands in his pockets, hanging onto every word.

_. . . The storm keeps on twisting, keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack. It don't make no difference. Escape one last time. It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees . . ._

Charles closed his eyes. God, how he'd missed this! How he'd missed _her_!

Justine looked up briefly from the keyboard as he watched Jessie, startled by the pure longing in his eyes. Once, he removed his hand from his pocket and almost touched her shoulder. He pulled back inches away, letting his arm fall limply to his side.

_. . .You were pulled from the wreckage of your silent revelry. You're in the arms of the angels. May you find some comfort here._

As the last notes faded, Justine looked at Jessie. "OK, Miss 'Not That Good'! You should be performing with us, not lounging in this lovely piece of Korea!" She glanced behind Jessie. "What do you think, Major?"

Jessie's smile froze. She didn't need to turn around to know who Justine was speaking to.

Charles cleared his throat nervously.

Abruptly, Jessie stood. "Uh, I better go. Thanks, Justine." She maneuvered around him, praying he wouldn't stop her.

He touched her arm.

"Charles, please . . ." She felt too vulnerable, cursing his timing. "Please, don't. Not here. Not . . . anywhere."

He watched her a moment, understanding dawning. _O'Reilly! I should have known!_

A million retorts ran through his mind. Instead, he let her go, turning away from her quiet retreat into the dark compound.

"Whoa."

Charles had forgotten Justine was there. He certainly didn't want to discuss this . . . this whatever it was with a stranger.

So, he did what he did best. He changed the subject.

"Tell me, why do you play that wretched traveling show monstrosity when you can play the piano like you can?"

*********************************

Jessie stared at herself in her mirror. She looked old. Hell, she _felt_ old!

She missed him, more than she thought she could. Not just his touch, but his ability to help her find strength and solace in this place.

In some ways, he was better at it than Radar, coming from maturity, she supposed.

How could she care for a man who could be so unforgiving with himself and others, yet be so tender with her that it brought tears to her eyes? Why didn't he show that side more often?

She didn't know he was behind her, listening to her sing, seeing her emotions so raw and exposed. And, he had the nerve, the gall to touch her like he had that night in his tent, then be so . . . so hostile the next moment!

_Damn him!_

_********************************_

"Jessie, wake up!"

Jessie swiped at the obnoxious noise. "Go away. Margaret gave me the day off."

Frustrated, Klinger shook her harder. She opened one eye. "I'm going to hurt you if this isn't important."

Klinger waved a piece of paper under her nose, obviously excited. "You're going home, Jess! You're going home!"

She shut her eyes, the news not quite registering. "Great. Now let me get some sleep," she mumbled.

"Jessie! _Home_!"

Her eyes opened wide, realization dawning. "You're kidding, right? This is one of Hawkeye's jokes, isn't it?" Jessie snatched the paper out of Klinger's hand and scanned it. "Oh my _God_, you're not joking! I'm going home!"

She stood on the middle of her cot, practically jumping up and down. "Oh, Klinger, I'm going home!" He joined her as they jumped up and down around the room. "I have so much to do! I've got to call my family and pack. . ."

"Attention, all shifts! Report to the compound. Buses and choppers arriving in camp! All shifts to the compound!"

They stopped celebrating. Carefully, Jessie folded her orders and placed them in her pocket.

Klinger shrugged. "That's the way it goes, sweetheart."


	34. Chapter 34

Thanks for all your lov-er-ly reviews! Oh, and don't hate me if this doesn't turn out like you want. I guess you'll find out in . . . let me see . . . 15 more chapters!

*******************************************

Even in surgery, news traveled fast. Jessie found herself answering all sorts of questions about her hometown, everyone suddenly desperate for a little taste of home.

"Oh, and the horses! Early in the morning, they run across the field together, the sun catching their manes. I used to sneak outside and sit on the fence, watching them, wishing I could run with them." Jessie obediently handed Charles a scalpel. Even working at his table didn't dampen her spirits.

Kelleye sighed from the table next to her. "Oh, that sounds lovely. I always wanted a horse, but we never had room for one."

"Horses are a dime-a-dozen in Texas," Bigelow called from across the room.

"We had this horse one time . . ."

"Lieutenant, the army owns you for another 36 hours. I suggest you start nursing or find something more constructive to do. Sponge." Charles said in a monotone voice.

Jessie narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, _sir_, Major."

"Yes, Lieutenant, keep your stories to yourself," Margaret ordered from across the room. "All of you, keep quiet!"

"Oh, c'mon Major, lighten up. It's not everyday one of us gets to go home in one piece, you know." Hawkeye stitched as he talked.

"No one asked you, Pierce," Margaret said.

"Meds, Lieutenant."

Jessie could barely control her anger towards Charles, the banter floating around the room not registering. She slapped the scissors in his hand so hard, he flinched.

"OK, Lieutenant, you're done here." Charles flexed his hand. "Major Houlihan, send a nurse over that is not capable of procuring bodily harm."

"Callahan, take over for me." Margaret began changing gloves as Jessie seethed.

"Major, I . . ."

"No arguing, Lieutenant. Go help Captain Hunnicutt. I'll take over here."

With one last glare at Charles, who appeared to be ignoring her, Jessie stomped over to B.J.'s table. She was so angry, her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth.

B.J. leaned over. "I think he deserved it."

"He _deserves_ to be kicked all the way to North Korea!" she hissed.

B.J. chuckled. "Now, now, Lieutenant. Don't want your father to think we haven't taught you any manners."

Jessie rolled her eyes, handing B.J. sponges. "I never lived up to my father's expectations. And, apparently, I haven't lived up to Charles's, as well." Jessie focused on not taking her anger out on B.J. as she gently handed him his surgical equipment.

"I imagine Charles hasn't even lived up to his own expectations of himself."

As soon as the O.R. session was over, the nurses carted Jessie to the O club for one last celebration. Not even Margaret's brief dressing down about her behavior could dampen their spirits.

Who cared? She was oughtta here in less than eight hours!

They danced and sang deep into the night, almost drinking the bar dry. Jessie put the whole party on her tab, which increased everyone's drinking threefold. The more they drank, the more fun everyone had.

As the evening wore on and the party got louder, Jessie snuck out for some fresh air. She leaned against the door, thankful for the cool breeze after being in the stuffy bar for so long. She put some distance between the building and herself to get away from the noise. The further away she went from the club, the louder it got.

Chopin. Coming from the Swamp.

The dirty rotten fink was too stuck up to even come to her farewell party!

Jessie remembered her embarrassment in OR, and her blood boiled. She found herself stomping across the compound, fists clenched in barely-contained rage.

She snatched the door open to the Swamp. "Let me tell you something, you good-for-nothing. . ."

Charles was sitting with his back to the door, an almost-empty bottle of cognac on the table. He raised a hand to her in warning, demanding silence.

Jessie marched to the record player, snatched the record off the turnstile with a screech, and flung it across the room. It shattered as it hit the stove.

"For God sakes, for once face your problems instead of hiding behind this music!"

He rose and stared at her in shock, the color rising in his face. "How dare you insinuate that I'm a coward!"

Jessie crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. "You _are_ a coward! I believe you only listen to this stuff because it can't talk back! So, you avoid what's really going on here."

"Oh, since you seem to have elevated yourself from nurse to psychiatrist, what might that be?"

Jessie wanted to strangle him. "For starters, your total lack of . . . of tact! You had no right to call me out in OR like that!"

Charles flexed his hand. "Well, let me tell you something _Miss_ Callahan, my fingers are still sore from your inept and _tactless_ method of handing me my surgical equipment."

Jessie pulled up her sleeve. "Well, what about these? These are from your _inept_ methods of dealing with silly little nightmares!" The purple marks had faded to a dull green and yellow.

A dark expression passed over Charles's face.

Jessie swallowed, remembering what else had happened that night. She shook her finger at him. "Let me set something straight with you, Winchester. I may have fallen in love in a warzone, and he may have hurt me worse than I've ever been hurt before. But, I will come out of here with one thing."

"Oh, and what might that be?" he sneered.

Jessie put her hands on her hips. "I would have given up _anything_ to be with him! More than he would have, apparently! And I _refuse_ to let my family live my life for me. And yet, you turned Martene away because she wasn't good enough!"

Charles opened his mouth to retort.

"Shut up and listen to me! Do you ever make a decision for yourself? Not something your family or your accountant or your lawyer wants you to do? Think on that while you're sitting alone in your big mansion with all your money and prestigious doctorates and no one to share it with because you chased everyone away who ever cared about you . . ."

_Including me!_

Jessie choked on the last words before they tumbled out.

Before he could reply, she stormed outside, the party forgotten. She slammed into her tent and kicked a table, knocking books onto the floor. She kicked one for good measure, sending it skittering across the room. "That selfish, boorish, unsophisticated excuse for . . ." She ran out of adjectives, so kicked another book.

She wasn't being entirely fair. She had pushed him away as much as he had done with her. What did it matter, anyway? He was still a poor excuse for a human being!

Crossing her arms across her chest, she tapped her foot in annoyance. _That man can get to me more than anyone I've ever seen!_

_******************************_

Charles watched her retreating figure, her fists clenched at her sides, until she disappeared around the corner. He found himself pacing back and forth in his tent like a caged animal, kicking at pieces of broken record along the way.

_That woman! That exasperating . . . woman_!

He had never in his life come in contact with anyone who could infuriate him so, then fill him so full of desire that he would do anything to have her.

She never treated him like she treated Radar. They were so . . . so sweet! And it was nauseating.

And he was jealous.

_Ha_! He admitted it!

It wasn't the only thing he admitted. The night in his tent haunted him, would rouse him from lustful dreams filled with visions of her. When he awoke, he swore he could smell her perfume.

Charles threw himself against the door to the Swamp, almost breaking it off its hinges in his frustration.

The clear night air didn't help. In his desperate retreat from the confines of the Swamp, he had only thought to clear his mind, her words ringing in his ears. He couldn't shake the feeling she was right. Again.

How on earth did she do it?

How did she manage to immediately get to the root of the problem, exposing his faults and insecurities, holding them up for him to see? What he saw wasn't very pleasant, either.

She had no right to place judgment!

And why did it not repulse him as when most people managed to show him that he felt any sort of emotion other than indifference? Now that he had come so close to having her, knew what she felt like and how she responded to him, he felt like a man with an addiction, wanting her repeatedly, even if it killed him. No matter what she said.

He hadn't meant to trudge to her tent. Or maybe he had. He couldn't tell anymore why he did anything. He stood just outside the glow of the light from her window, the war raging in his mind and his heart making him question everything he had ever believed about himself.

********************************

Jessie began to calm, her heart rate slowing. She flopped on her rumpled cot, trying to make sense of her thoughts.

Nothing was the same with Charles as it was with Mark or Radar or anyone. Granted, she was only 20, so what did she know about love? Really, was it even love? Or maybe lust? Or something in between?

And, how did she know? She hadn't managed to hold onto anyone for any length of time, anyway.

She shivered involuntarily, thinking of Charles's fingers running across her bare skin. Frustrated, she turned and punched her pillow. _This place is making me crazy!_

_********************************_

Charles was sick. Sick and tired of it all. Why did any of it matter? They were all stuck in this place that was closer to hell than any of them would ever get, and he longed to have someone like her. Someone to help him forget about it.

He didn't even realize what he was doing until he barreled through her tent door.

Charles scaring her so badly she opened her mouth to scream. Catching herself, she jumped to her feet, hands on hips. He stalked towards her until they were standing toe-to-toe, kicking books out of the way as he went.

Trembling, she drew herself to full height. He still towered over her. "Leave! _Now_!" She hoped he couldn't hear the quaver in her voice.

He reached for her, every fiber of his being full of desire. Pulling her to him, he kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue and desperately exploring the taste of her.

She didn't fight him. Hell, she didn't want to! Instead, she returned his embrace, grabbing handfuls of his shirt, trying to control the emotions churning in the pit of her stomach. The liquor on his breath mixed with the taste of him she remembered from their earlier encounters, and she pressed against him, feeling him respond.

He backed her against the tent, his hands exploring. Surprising herself, Jessie found herself giving into his caresses, a low ache beginning in her stomach.

They were both breathless and half undressed when he pulled away.

He spotted the piece of jewelry around her neck. Gingerly, he reached for it and pulled it slightly, the clasp breaking loose. His fingers lightly brushed the scar on her chest, his face softening.

"For tonight, there's not going to be anyone but us. No Radar. No Martene. Nothing but you and me." He tossed the necklace onto the table as they came together.

********************************************

The sun shining through a crack in the homemade curtains hit Jessie in the face. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. The sound of the camp bustling outside was anything but peaceful, and she couldn't fall asleep again. Besides, she was going home this afternoon, and she needed to pack and call her family . . .

_Wait._

She sat up. Charles wasn't anywhere to be found. She knew he spent most of the night there because they woke each other up often enough to . . .

She blushed, glad no one was in the room to see it.

They did not talk or discuss anything like rational adults. In fact, all rational thinking flew out of Jessie's head from the moment he touched her, all nagging doubts disappeared with their rising yearning to love and be loved. Each time she climaxed, Jessie would have to bury her face in his shoulder, trying not to cry out his name. Panting, they would fall back onto the cot, falling asleep tangled among the sweat-soaked blanket, only to awaken later, so full of desire that they started again.

Except for the last time. It was different, more poignant perhaps, because it was the final time.

_Restlessly, he watched her still form, her back turned away from him. _

_As much as he tried, he couldn't leave._

_Instead of hastily pulling on his clothes carelessly tossed about, he sat in his boxers in her lone chair watching her sleep. He glanced at his watch, knowing he should leave before too much daylight enlightened everyone to their nighttime tryst. Plus, he was exhausted. Not only had he never had a night like that before, but he was not accustomed to such emotional lovemaking. _

_Watching the sheet rise and fall with her breathing, it was hard to tear himself away. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, resigning himself to the cold, hard truth. _

_Jessie opened her eyes. Although he was no longer in her bed, she knew he was still there. Sensing his presence, she rolled over and propped herself up on one arm. He watched her, his fingers steepled in front of his chest, as she struggled to make out his shape in the dark tent._

"_It's almost dawn." His voice sounded low, almost strangled. "I should go."_

"_So?"_

"_People will see. They'll talk. It's not . . ." What? Proper? Right? Good manners? None of the words seemed appropriate._

"_I wish you wouldn't think so much."_

"_Actually, I'm not thinking as much as I'm worrying." It just slipped out. All his thoughts and worries and dreams._

"_About what?"_

_Once again, he struggled for words. Not only had he had an amazing night with a beautiful woman, but he wished it could go on and on. And that's where the worry begins. She was going home. He was staying. Once they returned to their lives, complete with their own separate hopes, dreams and desires, who knew what would happen?_

_Jessie dreaded this moment, knowing exactly what was wrong as she watched him. She would be lying if she said she didn't have the same thoughts. _

_Unfortunately, rationality always returned with the sun. _

_Prolonging the inevitable, she wrapped the sheet around herself. His eyes never left hers as she closed the gap between them._

_Hungrily, their lips met._

"_Stop worrying. Come back to bed," she whispered._

_Rejuvenated, as he picked her up and laid her on her bunk, he tried to remember what he was supposed to by worrying about._

A loud knock interrupted her thoughts. Actually, it sounded like someone was beating down her door.

"Klinger! Tell Hotlips to stuff it!"

The door opened, and Jessie pulled the blankets tighter around herself. The sun blinded her momentarily, and she couldn't tell who it was.

The door slammed shut, and she was greeted with a grinning Hawkeye and B.J.

Jessie rolled her eyes, wrapping up in the blanket. "I cannot believe you both are up this early! I distinctly remember a bucket on someone's head while dancing on the bar!"

B.J. raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. "That would be me."

"Yeah, you should go home more often. We could use the excuse to party."

"Thanks, but I'm _staying_ home next time."

Hawkeye reached down to pick up a book. "Love what you've done to the place. Don't you think you should be packing instead of lounging in bed?"

"Yeah. Actually, I'm leaving most of this stuff. It can rot for all I care."

Hawkeye nodded his approval.

B.J. nudged Hawkeye in the back. He turned to face his friend. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He turned towards Jessie. "You haven't happened to see ol' Chuckles have you? He didn't come home last night."

Jessie wished the floor would open up and swallow her. "Uh, why do you think he was here?"

"Well, when we stumbled into our humble abode at dawn, his bunk hadn't been slept in. And there were pieces of Chopin all over the floor. The way the two of you had been on the warpath lately, we put two and two together."

"Plus, you're the only one who could break one of his records and live to tell about it," B.J. added.

Hawkeye stepped closer. "You also have the look of a woman who's . . . um . . . satisfied."

Jessie's eyes widened. "That's one thing I won't miss around here! All of you being so damn nosy!" She got up from the bed, struggling to keep the blanket around her.

Hawkeye and B.J. watched her rant, clearly amused. B.J. reached down and picked up something from the floor, shaking it free of Jessie's discarded clothing from the night before. It was Charles's jacket.

Jessie stomped over to B.J. and snatched it out of his hand, trying to gather up her clothes from the floor. "OK, he was here! So what?"

Hawkeye laughed aloud, holding onto his sides. "I can't believe it! The two of you were at each other's throats!" He eyed Jessie. "You're looking mighty lovely wearing nothing but that blanket. Want to get into a fight, so we can make up?"

Jessie pointed to the door. "Out! Both of you!"

The laughing pair exited her tent in a rain of clothing.

As the day wore on, Jessie went through all her belongings. Her pile to keep was much smaller than her pile of stuff to give away. Aside from a few mementos and pictures, everything else was doled out to those who could use it. All the nurses stopped by and said their tearful good-byes, Jessie sending them out with armfuls of stuff. Before she knew it, there was nothing left but dust and dirt.

And still, no sign of Charles.

She wasn't going to deny that she thoroughly took pleasure in the night before. And he certainly seemed, too, as well. But, what would happen now? They still hadn't said a word about the reasons they were so angry at each other to begin with. Honestly, she had a hard time remembering them herself.

_Maybe he regretted last night. That's it, he probably regretted it._

_Fine, I can regret it, too_.

She sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead. Instead of feeling relieved, she felt a little sad.

She straightened her Army dress jacket, glad she wouldn't have to wear her class-A uniform much longer. Picking up her half-empty duffle, she threw it over her shoulder. With one final look around the room, she walked outside into the bright afternoon. Klinger rushed over with a clipboard.

"Jeep's on its way from Seoul." He paused when he saw her. "That's all you're taking?"

Jessie shrugged. "No one has as much clothing as you."

Klinger laughed. "That's true!" He reached out and hugged her tightly. "I'm gonna miss you, kid."

She found herself tearing up. "I'm gonna miss you, too, Max."

He let her go. "Now, don't go crying on me. I can't handle a crying woman."

Jessie smiled, wiping her eyes. "You know, I never cried or drank or anything like that before I came here."

Klinger patted her shoulder. "Me neither, kiddo. Mainly the crying part."

Jessie cleared her throat. "Have you seen Charles today?"

Klinger must not have heard the gossip because his expression didn't change. "Nope, sure haven't. B.J. and Hawkeye had been looking for him all day, though. Something about wanting details."

Jessie's eyes narrowed.

"Lieutenant!"

Jessie immediately jumped at Margaret's tone of voice. "Yes, ma'am?" _Oh great, I forgot to sign something or file something or . . ._"

Jessie was surprised when Margaret hugged her quickly. "You've been a real asset to this outfit. Good luck."

"Why . . . thank you, Major," Jessie said, surprised.

Margaret leaned in closer, a kind expression on her face. "And go easy on him. He's not as strong as he thinks he is."

Confused, Jessie stared at Margaret for a moment before she realized who she was talking about.

"Hey, where's my hug?"

Jessie turned towards Col. Potter, her eyes once again filling with tears, glad she didn't have to reply to Margaret.

She reached for the older man, and he hugged her. She sniffed loudly. "You're the best, you know that Colonel?"

Col. Potter chuckled, wiping his nose with a handkerchief. "You're not so bad yourself, Jess. Are you going to keep up with the nursing back in the states?"

Jessie shook her head. "I've had about as much blood as I can take."

He patted her on the shoulder. "It's the medical industry's loss, that's for sure."

Hawkeye and B.J. sauntered over. "She'll be too busy with her Texas high-society."

Jessie found herself smiling at the pair. She hugged B.J. tightly. "You know, after being in this hell-hole for a year, I'll do more appreciating of home and less complaining about it." _Too bad it's taken me through all that's happened to realize it._

B.J. held her at arm's distance. "Sorry about Radar, Jess. I really thought . . ."

Jessie felt her smile falter. "I thought so, too. But I guess it wasn't meant to be."

She caught movement in the corner of her eye. _Oh, so _now_ he shows up . . ._ Determined to ignore him until the last possible minute, she turned towards Hawkeye. "OK, you dirty doctor, you! No kissing!"

He laughed. "You know me so well!" Instead, he wrapped her in a bear hug.

The arrival of a jeep in the compound put an abrupt end to their good-byes. Turning away from Hawkeye, she found herself face-to-face with Charles's blue eyes.

Feeling like she had been kicked in the stomach, words of anger mixed with tenderness threatened to spill out of her mouth. Her gaze faltered. _It's not supposed to be like this . . ._

"I-I put your jacket in the Swamp." A mundane, yet safe comment.

"Thanks." The range of emotions fleetingly running across her face mirrored his own, he knew. He had spent all morning thinking about what he was going to do when the time came. As much as she despised her lifestyle, so similar to his own, he could see her by his side back in the states.

_But, that's not what she wants._ _And she deserves to be happy_.

Reluctantly, he had made his decision.

But now that he was face-to-face with her, he could feel his resolve faltering. Keenly aware of everyone watching them as they stared at each other, but not caring one whit, he hesitantly reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin.

'Wait for me' and 'I think I love you' were on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't manage to break down what remained of his protective wall and tell her.

_Oh, hell._ Jessie's eyes welled at his touch, and she sat her duffle down, launching herself into his arms. He caught her and held her tightly, her feet just off the ground.

"Good-bye, Charles," she whispered in his ear, having so much more to say, but hesitant to bare her soul to a man who wouldn't let her even come close to his own. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened.

Charles didn't trust himself to speak. After too brief a moment, he sat her down, his resolve returning, and reluctantly did what he promised himself.

He let her go.

She straightened her jacket as she composed herself. Determined not to cry until she was safely away, she climbed into the waiting jeep. With a final wave, she was gone.

When Hawkeye and B.J. turned around after her jeep had puttered around the bend, Charles had disappeared as well.

********************************

Charles rubbed his face wearily, sitting on his cot in the Swamp. After Jessie was whisked away, his shift started, then wounded arrived, continuing hour upon hour of living hell. He flexed his fingers, every one of his joints stiff from exertion. He reached over and opened his foot locker, muttering an oath when he saw the almost empty cognac bottle. Instead of tossing it aside, he poured the last sip in a glass and gulped it down, grateful for the sensation down his throat.

It had been one day since Jessamyn left. More than twenty four hours since he'd seen her last.

Today was one of those shifts that disregarded their high survival rate; all of them had lost at least one on their tables. He could have used her presence today. She always seemed to sense when he needed encouragement or when he wanted to be left alone. Sometimes, to lighten the mood, she would softly quote Shakespeare or Keats or hum Tchaikovsky where only the two of them could hear. It was comforting, one of the few bits of comfort he had.

But, not anymore. Not ever again.

Exhausted, he flopped back onto his cot. He wanted to sleep, to get away from his loneliness. But, when he closed his eyes, he could see her from the night before. He could still feel her mouth hot on his neck as she whispered his name, her breath coming in small gasps, sending him over the edge each time.

Sure, he had loved his share of women, but none of them did he want to please like her. She had made him feel so alive, made him forget that daily, they were elbow-deep in guts and blood, willing each soldier that came across their tables to live.

He had told himself when he arrived in Korea that he would get involved with no one. Why? No one in this modern-day purgatory could possibly measure up to his standards. But truthfully, the thought of opening up to anyone in this horrendous world of gore when he was at his most vulnerable scared the hell out of him.

So, Jessie was right. He did hide. He _was_ a coward.

He turned his head, glancing towards his nightstand, a glimmer catching his eye. It sparkled lightly as headlights from the compound fell across it.

Gingerly, he picked it up, fingering the chain, his exhausted mind trying to reason why it was there.

The door to the Swamp opened. Charles didn't even look up, placing the necklace in his front pocket discreetly.

"Go away."

Col. Potter cleared his throat. "My bird doesn't take highly to taking orders, Major."

"It wasn't an order. It was a request. A polite request." He eyed B.J. and Hawkeye slouching behind the Colonel. "Actually, it was more directed towards these two degenerates than you."

"Aw, c'mon Charles. We brought something to cheer you up." Hawkeye held up the bottle in Col. Potter's hand. "See? Fifteen-year old brandy."

"Where on earth did you cretins get it? Sorry, Colonel."

"It actually belongs to the Colonel, but we all thought you could use it. After everything that went on lately."

Charles held out his glass as they poured, hoping he could lie convincingly. "I have no clue what you're referencing, Hunnicutt, but I'll take brandy any day and for any reason."


	35. Chapter 35

Yes, I'm sending them home, but I still _promise_ our favorite characters (including a few who haven't been mentioned yet!) will show back up.

*************************

Jessie had been home for a month. At first, the routine was comforting, soothing. Still, her frazzled nerves kept her awake each night, the small noises she used to find comforting setting her on edge, expecting choppers or snipers or both to come creeping out of the shadows.

Oh, she stayed busy enough. There were fundraisers to plan and teas to attend. Her friends threw her party after party. But, Jessie felt out of place. They couldn't understand, and she never tried to explain it to them. They could never understand how it felt to be elbow-deep in someone's guts, willing them to live. Or have a crazy Korean woman hold a shank to your neck. Or face down the barrel of a Chinese rifle.

Not to mention fall in love with two men, have one marry someone else and the other convince himself he didn't need anyone, determined to suffer alone in the world he had created for himself.

Her family sensed a change. But, she never told them. She didn't want to burden them with the nightmares that woke her up most nights, a scream in her throat.

Johnny knew. He had seen it, and he understood. After Jessie had been home for a week, he coaxed the whole story out of her. She spent a whole, tiresome afternoon telling him about Radar leaving and Charles and what happened on the side of the road.

She left out what happened the night before she left. After all, Johnny was still her brother.

One night at dinner, Jessie's father was discussing his plans to go to Washington D.C. to help the oil interests. Andrea and her brood were there, so Jessie had a hard time keeping up with the conversation between glasses of spilt milk and wiping food off dirty faces.

"Jessamyn, did you hear what I asked you?"

"Oh, um, no Dad, I'm sorry." Jessie swiped at the gravy stain on her nephew's shirt as he giggled.

"Johnny mentioned that you might like a change of scenery."

Jessie froze. "He did?"

"Yes. He thought you might to go to D.C. with me. I'll be gone for a few weeks, and we might even go up the east coast a bit, take in some sights."

Jessie relaxed. She didn't really think Johnny would tell her father about her nightmares and worries. "Sure, Dad. Sounds like fun."

The rest of the evening was full of packing. Mattie helped Jessie take in some of her dresses that were too big. Much to Mattie's dismay, Jessie had dropped some weight while overseas. She was constantly trying to get Jessie to eat, always bringing her small plates of food throughout the day. After being accustomed to eating the swill in Korea, Jessie had a hard time adjusting to eating the rich foods Mattie placed in front of her.

But, she had to admit, it was nice to get out of town. She had been to the capital many times in her life, but never as an adult. She even found the parties and luncheons a welcome diversion. No one knew she had gone to Korea, so all the prying questions were absent. Jessie found herself enjoying discussing the latest fashions and such, not worried about dancing around questions about war.

One evening, her father knocked on her door and entered her room. He watched her add pins to her hair, trying to get it to stay in place. When she turned around, smiling, she saw he had tears in his eyes.

"Dad, what's wrong?" she asked, smile faltering. Her father never cried.

He reached for a handkerchief. "I was just thinking how much you look like your mother. Especially in that dress."

Jessie looked down. It was something she had bought in town, a white, shimmering gown with a high waist and no sleeves. The nights were warm in D.C., so she didn't need a cover over her bare shoulders.

"Honey, are you happy?"

Jessie's head snapped up, and she stared. "Um . . .sure, Dad. What makes you ask?"

He cleared his throat. "You seem . . .uh-preoccupied since you've gotten home."

Jessie bit the inside of her lip. Thoughts of Charles kept creeping up on her. She wondered what he was doing and if he ever thought of her. She wondered if he was safe, knowing if he was still in Korea, he really wasn't. Almost religiously, she poured over the newspaper each day, finding it ironic that she was desperate for news of a place she had longed to leave. She recognized the names of places of battles and could almost picture the sea of wounded drifting through the camp, shuttering at the thought.

Not to mention Radar. Now, the ache was more subdued. After all, he had chosen his path and was living his life.

Now, it was up to her to choose her own path.

"Dad, I'm fine. Just need a little . . . adjustment time, that's all."

He hugged her. "Kitten, I never told you I'm proud of you."

Jessie felt tears stinging her eyes at the old endearment he used. "You are?"

She could feel him nod. "I know I didn't tell you often enough, especially after you joined that damn Army, but I really was proud."

Jessie couldn't believe her father was telling her this. "Th-thank you, Daddy."

Her father pulled back, suddenly all business again. He patted her check. "I have a surprise for you tonight."

"A surprise?" She looked behind his back, wondering what it was.

He laughed. "No, not that kind of surprise. Our senator is good friends with the senator for Massachusetts. They've invited us to attend a ball tonight in his honor, a fundraiser of sorts. His jet us taking us. I thought you might want to spend a few days in Boston."

Jessie tried to avoid making a face. _Ugh, Boston!_ "Uh . . . that sounds fun, Dad."

The flight was not long on the sleek jet, and Jessie soon found herself arm-in-arm with her father, waiting to be introduced. It was the usual affair. All the women had on their best jewelry and dresses, and the men were wearing tails and topcoats. The event was at a local ballroom, and she was impressed with the vaulted ceilings and curved banisters. She was also glad she had bought a new dress.

"Master David H. Callahan of Texas and his daughter, Miss Jessamyn Rose," the gentleman who introduced each person said loudly. There was a smattering of applause. Before she and her father could get very far, a figure pushed through the crowd and bowled right into Jessie.

"Oh, Jessamyn! I c-c-can't believe it's r-really you!"

Jessie's father stepped back in alarm. "What on earth . . ."

Jessie was trying to figure out what to do with the crying woman hugging the breath out of her.

"What has gotten into you, child?" A petite older matron with blue, piercing eyes stepped from the amused crowd.

Jessie held the woman who was still hugging her at arm's length. She had the same blue eyes as her mother – and her brother. "Why, Honoria Winchester!"

Honoria's eyes, more playful than her brother's, danced merrily. "W-why, I d-d-didn't expect you to know w-who I was." She turned to her mother, who was standing with her arms crossed in front of her sternly. "Mother, this is J-jessamyn Callahan. She was in the s-same unit as Charles."

Jessie remembered her manners and managed a small curtsy to the elegant woman. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Winchester."

"Really. What's all the fuss about?" A tall gentleman with steely eyes made his way through the crowd. "Honoria, what in the world has gotten into you?"

Honoria glanced at Jessie over her father's shoulder and rolled her eyes. Jessie smiled, immediately liking Charles's little sister. More introductions were made.

"I apologize for my daughter, Miss Callahan. She can be overly dramatic at times."

"Don't worry about it, sir." Jessie tried not to laugh as Honoria made faces at her behind her father's back.

When the crowd backed away, Honoria found her chance. "My d-dear, I guess I sh-shouldn't have surprised you like th-that."

Jessie laughed. "Oh, don't worry about it. And to think, I actually thought tonight would be boring!"

Honoria's blue eyes filled with tears. "I can't b-believe you s-saved his life! Without you, h-he'd be . . ." Her blonde hair fell into her eyes as she sniffed, and she tossed it aside.

Jessie paled, not expecting this turn in conversation. "You know?"

Honoria took Jessie's hand. "S-sure I know. Charles t-tells me everything." She lowered her voice. "B-b-but, Mother and Father d-don't . He didn't w-w-want to worry them."

Jessie nodded, understanding. From what she knew, she wondered if they'd even care.

Honoria smiled, linking Jessie's arm through hers. "It's b-been so long s-s-since I've seen my b-b-brother. L-letters just aren't t-t-the same. Tell me, how is he?"

"You want the truth or you want me to sugarcoat it?"

Honoria honestly thought for a moment. "The truth."

"Well, last I saw him, he was tired, stressed, not eating or sleeping well and just plain exhausted."

"And l-l-lonely."

"Lonely? Well, I suppose we all were, missing home and all."

Honoria shook her head, blonde curls tumbling. "That's not what I m-meant. He m-m-misses you."

Jessie felt her palms begin to sweat. "Funny, I wouldn't know. We haven't communicated at all since I've been at home."

"W-well, have you w-w-written?"

Jessie made a face. "No. I started, but what do I say?" Her eyes widened. "Wait a minute! How much exactly _do_ you know?"

Honoria smiled and patted Jessie on the shoulder. "D-dear, I can r-r-read between the lines." She laughed aloud as Jessie blushed. "D-don't worry. I won't tell!"

Jessie's father interrupted, a young man standing directly behind him. "Jessamyn, I want you to meet the senator's son, Ethan. Ethan, this is my youngest daughter."

Jessie resisted the urge to grit her teeth in frustration. _Still trying to set her up, is he? _She held out her hand, which Ethan raised to his lips. Jessie wanted to stamp her feet in annoyance. It reminded her of Charles.

"Pleasure. What a lovely name."

Jessie tried to smile. "It was my grandmother's. Please, call me Jessie."

Honoria grabbed Jessie's arm. "Excuse us Ethan, b-but I think it's about t-t-time for dinner. Jessie m-m-must be starved after her t-t-trip from D.C. Aren't you, Jessie?" Expertly, she dragged her away from Ethan.

"I know a set-up when I see it," she whispered.

Grateful, Jessie allowed herself to be drug away. "Thanks. My father has tried to find suitable bachelors for me all my life, it seems."

Honoria laughed, settling them in a corner. "Oh, I understand! P-p-plus, I dated Ethan for a while, and he's a b-b-big bore! Now, tell m-m-me about yourself."

********************************

"You m-m-mean, he actually b-believed that Hotlips h-had written B.J.'s wife? Oh, they g-g-got him g-good!" Honoria laughed merrily.

Jessie sipped the tea that had been brought to them by the butler. "They were constantly playing tricks on each other. Eased the boredom." _And the insanity._

It was Jessie's last day in Boston. Most of it, she had spent with Honoria. After Jessie explained to her how she abhorred the city, Charles's sister declared she hadn't seen enough of it. They had toured the city, attending museums and historical points of interest. Honoria took her to Harvard, and Jessie marveled at the quiet reserve of the entire campus. They even danced the Lindy and the foxtrot at a night spot, much to the chagrin of their escort, the elderly butler. But, with the right compliments, he stoically agreed not to tell, especially after the three of them attended a Red Sox game, seeing who could cheer the loudest.

After tea, Jessie and Honoria visited the garden behind their house. It was quiet and peaceful, and Jessie could picture spending long hours in the solitude of the beautiful flowers.

"So, J-Jessie, what do you think of our f-f-fair city now?" They settled on a concrete bench near a fountain.

Jessie turned so she could see the stream lightly hit the water, rippling the surface. "OK, so I admit, I was young and stubborn. I guess I hated it because I didn't want to be here."

She patted Jessie on the knee. "When Charles g-g-gets home, you'll h-have to come and visit. I'm s-s-sure he would l-love to have you."

"I'm not so sure about that," Jessie muttered, then her eyes widened.

Honoria laughed so loud, a nearby gardener stopped what he was doing and turned towards the pair.

Jessie turned beet red, but remained silent. Since the night at the party, Honoria had not mentioned Jessie and Charles again. Jessie was embarrassed to think she was the one who brought it up.

Honoria wiped her eyes. "I can't help s-s-sense that you d-don't seem thrilled at the p-prospect. Is my brother that t-t-terrible of a l-l-lover?"

Jessie blushed even more. _I can't believe I'm having this conversation with Charles's sister!_

"Oh, no, it's not that!" _Not even close!_ "It's just that I think that any further . . . commitment was not what he was looking for." Jessie shrugged, hoping she seemed non-chalant, although her heart was pounding.

"You know, Ch-charles has never been g-g-good at discussing his f-f-feelings. He was always a v-v-very serious child and an even m-m-more serious adult."

_Damn skippy._ Jessie only nodded in agreement.

"But, j-judging from his l-l-letters, he seems to h-have opened up more to you th-th-than anyone else I've ever s-seen."

Jessie looked at her hands, her blush finally fading. "Well, I guess what's done is done. I like your parents and all, but I really don't think they think I'm good enough for their son." _And he doesn't think so, either._

Honoria rose from the bench. "J-jessie, there isn't a w-woman in this w-world who is good enough for Charles Emerson Winchester the Third." She gave a little wave to the gardener, who blushed and returned to his clipping.

Jessie looked at Honoria, surprised. She motioned towards the bashful gardener. "Have you and he . . ."

Honoria winked at her. "Why do you think I have so much fun? N-no one is g-g-good enough for me, either!"

******************************

Charles couldn't believe Jessie had been to Boston! And met his parents! And spent several days with his sister! For starters, she always claimed she abhorred the city, apparently reminded of her debutante days.

Secondly - and most importantly - _he_ wanted to be in Boston!

Honoria filled page after page with things the two of them did and said, constantly saying how lovely Jessie was. She claimed she even charmed their father, but how Honoria could tell, he didn't know. The man invented stoicism.

By the time Charles finished re-reading the letter, he was jealous. Of his sister, of all people! So often, he had thought about spending time with Jessie in the city he loved, showing her the places that made Boston the grand city it was. Now, she gets to see it without him, and according to his sister, had a marvelous time!

Honoria even mentioned that a couple of suitors had come to call on Jessie, including his cousin Alfred, whom he thoroughly despised. He took both of the women to the opera and to one of the finest restaurants in town, the oaf! Charles wished he could reach across the continents and strangle the man! Honoria gleefully mentioned that Jessie was polite, but not interested.

_Probably still in love with O'Reilly_.

Disgusted with himself, Charles tossed the letter aside and flopped back into his cot, earning curious looks from his bunkmates. He tried to calm down, not wanting to answer a myriad of questions. Instead, he rolled over, feigning sleep. Sleep which hadn't come so easy. Between the nightmares and torrid dreams of Jessie, he hadn't slept much at all. Either he'd wake up screaming or so full of desire, it made sleeping nearly impossible. It was certainly not restful.

_Why, oh why didn't I tell her good-bye? I could have told her . . . I love her. _

_There. I admitted it._

_And why shouldn't I? She's brave and beautiful and smart and everything I've ever wanted._ Charles sighed. _Yeah, but she wants to get away from her lifestyle. _My_ lifestyle. She was going to marry a farmer for cripe's sake!_

"Charles, if you don't knock it off, I'm going to come over there and strangle you with your own boot laces." B.J. tossed a dirty sock at Charles, who swiped angrily at it, knocking it into the corner.

"Yeah, why don't you just write her and get it over with?"

Charles sat up. "Gentlemen, I think my life is none of your affair."

B.J. rolled his eyes. "C'mon Hawk. Let's go to the O Club. Ol' lovestruck Charles here is barely tolerable."

Hawkeye grinned as he clambered off his bunk. "Go easy on the man. It's not often you have an amazing girl walk into your life, then adamantly push her out of it!"

Charles flung a whole stack of paper at the laughing pair as they exited the tent, littering the already-littered floor.

_Fine! They didn't think he'd do it? He'd show them!_

Resolutely, Charles sat at his desk, picking up a sheet of paper from the floor.

Two hours later, he was finished. It took him that long to write one stupid page! After sealing it and addressing it, he sat it in front of him, thinking. But, he didn't put it in the pile of letters to give to Klinger for the out-going mail. Disgustedly, he stuck it in an open book and slammed it shut.

_Who am I kidding, anyway?_

The loudspeaker rudely announced the arrival of more wounded, and he rubbed his face wearily, walking out the door.

***********************************

Jessie had to admit, she did feel more relaxed once they returned from Boston. And, the fanfare from her return from Korea had died down, so she wasn't constantly bombarded with questions, which so often led to nightmares later that night.

Mattie met her and her father at the door. "Child, I'm so glad you're back! It's been like Grand Central Station 'round here."

Jessie took one of her suitcases from Arthur, who tried to protest. Jessie waved him off with a smile. "What do you mean, Mattie?"

Mattie put her hands on her amble hips. "You kept getting call after call from Korea."

Jessie's eyes widened. _Could something bad have happened_? "Did they leave a message?"

Mattie shook her head. "It was from some man named Klinger with as Yankee an accent as I've ever heard. He said to tell you 'do not read the letter from Charles, or he will barbeque his nose in molasses.'" Mattie cocked her head at Jessie. "Who exactly _are_ these people?"

"It's a long story, but when you stick all sorts of people in a small place for that length of time, strange things happen."

Mattie rustled around in the pocket of her apron and came up with a letter. Jessie took it gingerly from the woman. _Oh yeah, air mail._ Charles always paid extra to send his correspondence quickly. Mattie watched Jessie closely as she looked at the familiar scrawl on the envelope. She resisted the strange urge to touch the writing.

"Since you're not supposed to read it, I don't see that you'll be needing it." She tried to get the letter back, but Jessie quickly put it in her bag. Mattie's eyes narrowed as she watched Jessie practically run up the stairs.

Jessie threw her bags onto the bed. She reached into the pocket of her suitcase and pulled out the letter, wanting to immediately rip into it. She held it up to the light, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. _Should I read it? It could be good news. _

_But, if Charles changed his mind, it could be something he regrets. _

_OK, maybe it's bad news._

Jessie sat down at her vanity and poked the letter into the crevice between the mirror and the frame. She propped her chin on her hand and wondered what to do.

******************************

"Klinger, you bumbling idiot, did you get her?"

Klinger wearily rolled his eyes. "Major, I tried to get her for two whole days! She wasn't there!"

Charles paced the floor behind Klinger's desk. "Well, try again. Maybe she's returned!"

Klinger shrugged. "I can't! We're in a communication black-out, and there's no phone calls coming in or out for the next 48 hours. Something to do with the latest peace talks. I did leave a message with the housekeeper, exactly what you told me to say."

Charles just growled in frustration. He had to stop her from reading that letter! And making a total fool of himself!

Klinger turned to face Charles. "Look, Major, I'm sorry. You told me to get the letters off your desk, and I did. I saw the one in the book and since it was all addressed and everything, I thought you wanted to send it, too."

Charles resisted the urge to strangle the clerk and ground his teeth in frustration.

"Look on the bright side. Maybe it will get lost in the mail."

"Yes. And maybe you'll make a wish and return to the garbage dump of a city where you belong!"

He almost knocked the door of the hinges as he slammed out.

************************************

Jessie heard it on the radio. The war was over! Everyone was coming home! She was sitting in her room by herself and wanted to celebrate, but found she didn't have anyone to celebrate with. No one would understand her elation. Col. Potter could retire, and B.J. could return to his wife and daughter and Hawkeye could return to Crab Apple Cove and Charles . . .

She wasn't sure about Charles. Instead, she pulled his unopened letter out from her pillow – hidden away from Mattie's prying fingers – and stared at it.

"Miss Jessie! You have a phone call!"

Jessie looked up from where she and her nephews had been playing with a litter of puppies in the backyard. She put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright sunshine. Arthur beckoned to her from the backdoor.

With strict instructions to the boys not to pull tails or ears, she ran into the house to the phone in the study.

"Hello?"

"J-Jessie, d-d-dear, how are you?"

"I'm wonderful. Isn't it great news?"

Jessie could almost feel the youngest Winchester's excitement. "Yes, isn't it g-g-grand? We've just got word that Charles w-w-will b-be home the d-d-day after tomorrow!"

Jessie couldn't help but smile. _Boy, I bet he's thrilled_!

"Actually, h-he'll be h-home in about f-four days, but h-he'll be back in the s-states in two. Th-that's what I was c-calling about."

"What do you mean?"

"I w-w-wondered if you r-read the letter."

Jessie almost stopped breathing. "How do you know?"

Honoria laughed merrily. "D-dear, I t-t-told you Charles t-t-tells me everything!"

"Well, no, I didn't read it. Klinger told me it wasn't even supposed to be mailed."

Honoria tsked into the phone. "I'm disappointed in you! S-since when d-do you do what someone t-t-tells you to?"

Jessie laughed nervously. "Hold over from the Army, I suppose. Charles did outrank me, you know."

Honoria got quiet. "J-Jessie, w-we can't g-g-get to San Francisco to m-m-meet Charles when he c-c-comes in. Mother and Father have a p-prior engagement, and they w-would not allow me to travel across the c-country, even with an escort. Just r-read the d-d-damn letter!"

The line went dead. Jessie looked at the receiver incredulously and hung it up. She fished in her pocket for the much-studied envelope. A shout from outside distracted her, and she tucked it away, going outside to see what the boys had gotten into now.

*****************************

Later that evening, Jessie sat on her bed, finally alone. Andrea and her husband had returned from their trip earlier that evening, and Jessie was glad to turn the boisterous twosome over to their parents.

Since she'd been home and had time to think, she'd realized a few things about herself. First, while she loved Radar, it was almost a type of adoration that made you jump headfirst without thinking. True, she still believed with her entire being that she would have been content in Iowa, but it was not meant to be.

Second, what happened between her and Charles was not the same. But, what was it? Jessie tried to be realistic and tell herself that it was only physical. They were just drawn to each other by mutual fear and longing. But, that didn't explain why she constantly seemed to think about him, why even the silliest action or word reminded her of him.

She turned the letter over in her hands, wondering if it held the answer.

Swallowing her fears, she tore into it and pulled out one lone sheet of paper.

_My dearest Jessamyn,_

_I should have written this earlier. Much earlier. Probably not written, but told you before you went home. It would have saved me so much heartache and many sleepless nights. I'm a stubborn man, and not easy to get along with, but Jessamyn, I can't stop thinking about you. You've been haunting me ever since I laid eyes on you, and yet, I'm just now realizing these emotions for what they are. I've never felt this way about any woman ever, not Martene and not anyone before. _

_I love you. _

_I need you, almost desperately. I know it sounds trite, but I don't feel complete. I can't sleep at night without wishing you were here. I see something during the day that makes me smile, and I want to tell you about it. I have difficulty with a patient, and I want you to be there._

_I'm not giving up my life, Jessamyn, but I want you to share it with me. _

_You asked me if I could make a decision without my family's approval. I'm making one now. Please, don't toss aside what we have just because of ungrounded fear. You're braver than that. I know you are. I've seen it. _

_One day, this horrendous war will be over. Please, wait for me. _

_-Charles_

Jessie re-read the letter three times before letting it flutter to her lap.

She stood and began piling things into her suitcase.

"Arthur! Wake up! You've got to take me to the airport!"


	36. Chapter 36

Jessie fidgeted in the uncomfortable airport chair. She looked at the clock on the wall and bit her lip, trying to calm her rolling stomach.

Mattie had a fit after Jessie declared she was going to California unescorted, but Jessie was not to be deterred. After promises not to tell her father until she was on her way, Arthur drove her to the airport. However, after a layover in Las Vegas overnight because of plane trouble, Jessie was at her wit's end, wondering if she was doing the right thing.

So sure of herself after she read the letter, maybe she shouldn't have acted so rashly. After all, Charles had made Klinger call her all the way from Korea to tell her not to read it. Maybe he had changed his mind.

Jessie adjusted her hat and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her dress. She had settled on this particular one because it was one of the few that fit her, and the color brought out her eyes. It made her feel confident, and she needed all the help she could get with her nerves shot to hell.

She looked around the crowded airport, trying to find something to take her mind from what she was about to do.

There were several families waiting on their sons and daughters to return, holding American flags and excited children. They all had the same look of relief on their faces, the same one she received from her family as she raced up her driveway into their arms.

Across the room, she spotted a small group of people with a "Welcome Home" sign. Jessie smiled. _Charles would have hated a sign_.

There was a petite blonde woman with a small child. Jessie couldn't help but wonder if this was who she thought it was. She did see numerous pictures of the two of them, after all.

Jessie glanced at the clock again. _Maybe he missed the plane. After all, it is the military. Maybe he was on an earlier flight, and I missed him. What do I do if he is on this one? What do I say? Maybe I should just slip out of here before it arrives, and no one would know. Maybe . . ._

The crowd surged forward. The plane had obviously landed.

Jessie thought she was going to be sick.

Nervously, she stood up, trying to see through the crowd.

A cry went up from across the room, and the blonde woman jumped into the arms of a familiar figure, sans mustache.

_Of course. B.J. would be the first one off the plane._

Jessie couldn't help but grin as B.J. and Peg held onto each other for dear life. She toyed with the idea of speaking, but didn't want to explain why she was there in the first place.

She watched as others ran through the doors into the arms of their loved ones, her heart pounding in her throat as the last passengers trickled through, mainly men on business in Honolulu without anyone to give them heartfelt greetings.

Her hopes fell. _He really _did_ miss the flight_.

Strangely enough, she couldn't help but be disappointed. With one last glance at the arrival gate, she sighed and started to turn away.

********************************

Charles ambled through the double doors, not in any hurry. He only carried one bag, having lost his alligator luggage he arrived in Korea with in a poker game, Looking calm and collected, he wore his hat back on his head and a white scarf around his Army dress coat.

Jessie's eyes widened. _He always looked calm and collected._ _I'm the one always running around in a panic. _She stood still, her feet planted on the tarmac floor. The crowd milled about her, the cries of welcome being replaced with conversation and tears. Panicked, she wondered for the umpteenth time if she had made the right decision.

She watched him through the thinning crowd. He stood back and watched B.J.'s reunion with his family, a wistful smile on his face. B.J. motioned him over, but he shook his head. He did shake B.J.'s hand as the now ex-captain balanced Erin in his arms. After patting Erin's back fondly, Charles picked up his bag and looked around the room, hunting for the exit.

************************************

He could have swore he saw her standing across the room, wearing a smart white hat and gloves and a green dress, her lovely auburn hair curled about her shoulders. He shook his head slightly. _Get a grip, Winchester._ He took a few steps towards the exit, wanting to get away from the noisy homecomings, constantly reminded that no one was here to greet him. He understood. He really did. But, it would have been nice . . .

A boisterous group with balloons and signs moved away, talking excitedly, and this time, he knew it was her. She looked nervous and a little unsure of herself, but her head was held high.

Somehow, he maneuvered his way through the remaining crowd, his eyes never leaving hers.

Finally, there was no one else between them. He was truly speechless as he sat his bag down at his feet.

Jessie closed the remaining distance, biting her bottom lip. He looked exhausted, even more weary than she remembered. _The last few days were probably hell_.

Remembering why she was there, she reached in her purse with an unsteady hand and came out with a letter.

_The_ letter.

Charles didn't know what to say. He couldn't take his eyes off her. For all he knew, they were the only two in the room.

"Funny thing happened the other day," she began softly. "For some strange reason, I did as I was told and didn't read this. Probably the first time in my life I've done what I was told. Outside of the Army, of course."

He chuckled, aching to pull her into his arms. Instead, he waited.

Jessie continued, a little stronger. "But, the voice of reason – otherwise known as your sister - finally came through. And I opened it."

Charles looked momentarily panicked. _But, she was here, so isn't that a good thing? Right? _Usually so sure of himself, he didn't quite know what to think.

"And?" he managed to croak, wanting to touch her to make sure he wasn't seeing a mirage.

Jessie smiled softly, searching his face. "I guess if we're both going to be this stubborn, we'll need to work on communicating a little better in the future. Don't you think?"

It didn't quite register at first what she was saying.

"Kiss her!" They both looked up at B.J., holding Erin, Peg beside him making shushing motions. B.J. grinned at his wife and winked at Jessie.

Charles reached for her. "You know, that's the most intelligent thing that's come out of that man's mouth since I've known him."

When his lips met hers, Jessie knew she'd made the right decision.

*********************************************

"So, what do you want to do first?"

"Hmmm?" Charles had his arm draped over her shoulders, idling playing with a strand of her hair. He still had a difficult time believing she was there. Hell, he had a hard enough time believing he was even back in the States!

The taxi driver waited patiently for their destination.

She poked him in the side. "What do you want to do first? Eat? Sleep? What?"

"What did you do?"

"Ate myself into a stupor. Fried chicken, cornbread, turnip greens, you name it, we had it!" She patted her stomach. "Mattie has made it her life's work to fatten me up. Seems to be doing a good job, too."

He thought of the gourmet meals he had at home. "Just no turnip greens."

Jessie grinned, then leaned forward to speak to the driver. "I know just the place!"

***********************************

Charles groaned, placing his napkin on the table. "OK, I give up. That's the best meal I've had, since I've been back."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "It's the _only_ meal you've had since you've been back!"

She had spotted the elegant restaurant on her hurried way to the airport. Optimistically, she had made early dinner reservations, as well as reserved a suite of rooms in the upstairs, four-star hotel.

The dinner crowd was just starting to arrive, quiet conversation and laughter surrounding them. Throughout their meal, they enjoyed each other's company, almost like they had never been apart. She told him about her trip to Boston, and he caught her up on what had happened at the 4077th since she had left. Light, easy conversation.

They didn't discuss the letter. Seemed a little much at the time.

All throughout dinner, Charles had been reserved. Jessie figured he was just tired, but something kept nagging at her. _It's in his eyes._ _They seem sadder somehow._

She was sure something was wrong after the panicked look in his eyes when the orchestra starting warming up for the dinner crowd. She reached out and touched his hand. "Charles?"

He gripped the table cloth with such force that his knuckles turned white, trying to take deep breaths. He was almost collected when the band started their first number. It was Mozart.

He jumped up. "I . . .um . . . I'm getting a little tired. Did you say you had a suite?"

Concerned, Jessie stood up, too, and rummaged in her purse, pulling out a key. "Room 1285. Go on up, if you like, and I'll settle the bill."

Charles hastily reached for his wallet and handed her several bills. Preoccupied, he hurried from the restaurant.

Jessie paid as fast as she could. A little apprehensive, she rode the frustratingly slow elevator to the 12th floor, and she walked down the carpeted hall to the room. The door was slightly ajar. Tentatively, she opened it.

"Charles?"

Jessie had left a small lamp on in the plush sitting room, but it did little to dispel the darkness. Quietly, she shut the door and locked it, laying her purse and hat on the sideboard and removed her heels, reaching down to rub her left foot. She always hated heels.

Hesitantly making her way to the first bedroom, she pushed open the door. She could see him sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, his elbows on his knees, staring aimlessly at the carpet.

Quietly, she stood next to him, debating on what to do. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

He took a deep breath. "It's that damn Mozart."

Mozart had always been one of his favorites. "OK, you're going to have to be more specific."

Charles started to reply.

She knew what was coming. "And don't you dare tell me it's none of my business!"

That earned a small smile. But, as soon as the smile appeared, it faded. Abruptly, he rose from the bed and stood before the window, looking out on the San Francisco skyline.

Slowly, he began to tell her about the Chinese musicians. How wonderful it was to lose himself in teaching. And how stricken he was at finding only one had survived to make it back to camp long enough to die at his feet, one of the last official casualties of the police action.

"It's not fair," Jessie whispered once he finished by telling her about the night at the farewell party.

Charles stared stoically out the window, not seeing the twinkling lights of the Bay Bridge. "No, it's not."

"There wasn't anything you could do."

"I know. That's what makes it so damn frustrating." He turned to face her. "My entire life, I've controlled everything that's gone on around me. But there, it was the total opposite of what I'd come to know."

Jessie was struck by the exhaustion in his face. "Why don't you get some sleep? Your plane leaves tomorrow afternoon, and you can stay in bed until then, if you like. I'll even get you something to help you sleep."

Wearily, he loosened the tie of his uniform and sank onto the bed. Too tired even to remove the Army attire he hated, he laid back and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Jessie left him alone, not even trying to remove his boots. She sat the glass of warm milk on the nightstand and watched him for a moment before quietly creeping across the hall to the smaller bedroom.

Due to her hurried flight from home and stressful layover, she hadn't slept much in the past several days either and fell into a dreamless sleep.

*********************************

An unfamiliar noise woke her, and she struggled from underneath the blankets. The clock on her night stand read 1:15. She listened for a moment, then saw a light come on across the hall. Throwing back the blankets, she reached for her robe tossed over a chair.

She found him in the bathroom, leaning heavily on the sink, watching the water run down the drain, breathing unsteadily. Occasionally, he'd throw water on his face, trying to catch his breath.

Now, _this_ was familiar territory! Although not as vivid, nightmares still occasionally haunted her sleep.

She stood in the doorway holding her robe tightly around herself, wanting to comfort him, but not sure if he'd accept it.

It was a few minutes before he spotted her.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered, turning off the water. He reached for a towel to dry his face and hands. His shirt and tie, wrinkled from being slept in, were soaked as well. He walked by Jessie, settling wearily on the side of the bed.

Before Jessie realized it, she started telling him about the helicopters in the early hours of the morning, finding herself standing in the middle of the darkened front yard in her bathrobe, her frightened and confused family watching her from the doorway as she realized she was searching the horizon for something that didn't exist. "Sometimes, I think I imagined it. Dreamed it up from some left-over hallucination."

Charles finally looked up at her, her expression hard to make out in the dim light. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"Not any crazier than I am." Jessie touched his cheek lightly. "Just don't clam up on me. I don't think I could take it after all we've been through."

Charles turned her hands over in his, softly kissing her palms. "You're an amazing woman."

He stood up, and Jessie held her breath. Gently, he untied her robe, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath it, she wore a short black silk shift.

Charles ran a finger back and forth along one of the straps on her shoulder. "Funny. I don't remember you wearing these in camp."

"Could you see the reaction from everyone if all the nurses wore what they normally slept in at home? Plus, I probably would have lost them in a poker game, anyway." She didn't know why she was rambling.

"Our loss, I suppose."

Charles nuzzled her neck softly, her pulse jumping under his touch. Jessie placed her hands on his chest to steady herself.

Expertly, he flicked the straps off her shoulders, and her gown fell to her feet. The soft light did little to dispel the desire in his eyes. "God, woman, you're enough to make me want to stay in bed with you for a week."

Jessie stepped closer and pressed against him, a small moan escaping his lips. She motioned towards the floor. "Not in those dirty boots, you're not," she whispered.

*******************************

Jessie slept on her stomach, arms curled underneath her, tousled hair partially covering her face. The afternoon sun slanted through the opened curtains onto her back, the downy hairs on her skin almost glowing with a life of their own. Charles stood by the side of the bed, mesmerized by the sight.

Their previous night together was different than before. Before, they had come together passionately, hungering for a lover's touch in the violent world that surrounded them.

Last night, they made love at a much slower pace, memorizing each other's wants and needs. Slowly, they caressed each other to a dizzying climax that left them drained, and they had lain in each other's arms, breathless. Although spent, Charles found himself wanting her again and again as he held her close throughout the night.

He reached out and brushed the small of her back with the tips of his fingers. Jessie stirred , but didn't wake. He felt himself respond and cursed. His flight for Boston left in a little over an hour. As much as he longed for home, he found himself wanting to climb back in the king-sized bed, wanting to see her green eyes flash at his touch.

He gingerly settled on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hair away from her face. He whispered her name softly.

Her eyes opened, and she groaned, rising on one elbow, her other arm holding the blankets over her chest. "What time is it?"

"Almost one."

She squinted at the sunlight streaming through the window. "Not a.m., I take it."

"Not even close." He felt his breath catch in his throat as she stretched and rolled onto her back, holding the sheet across most of her body. He knew what the rest of her looked like underneath that sheet.

With all thoughts of time falling away, he pulled her to him, blankets and all. Hungrily, he kissed her. When he pulled away, the sleepy look in her eyes had been replaced with longing.

"Come with me to Boston."

She shook her head. "No."

He rubbed his finger down her neck as she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. "I . . . I don't think I can make it without you," he continued. When they had slept, limbs tangled among the blankets, he had the first dreamless sleep in a long time.

Jessie snuggled against his chest. "You need time at home. Besides, you're starting your position at Mercy soon. That'll keep you busy enough, I'm sure."

He kissed the top of her head, breathing deeply.

"I don't think your parents would agree to our sleeping arrangements, anyway."

"You think?"

Although she had met his parents, the thought of meeting them as Charles's lover scared the hell out of her. They were polite, but Jessie didn't want to find out what they would do if they knew. Probably have her flogged.

Suddenly, she leaned back. "Hey! Nice suit!" She pulled back and studied him. "Where on earth did you get it?"

Charles chuckled deeply. "There's a tailor downstairs. It's not my exact size, but I wasn't going to put on that wretched uniform again. I told the bellboy to burn it."

Jessie smoothed the grey lapel and admired the maroon tie and expensive cut. "I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but those uniforms, you know."

"Well, I couldn't exactly get off the plane in Boston looking like a street urchin." He remembered his flight and looked at his watch, also obtained from the shops downstairs. "I've got to go." But, he didn't let her go.

"I'll miss you," Jessie said, her voice muffled in his coat.

"I'll miss you more." She raised her head, and he kissed her softly. "I'll call everyday."

She smiled as he kissed her. "You better."

"I'll visit you, just as soon as I can get away from the hospital."

She pretended to be shocked. "You mean, you'll come all the way to Texas? A Winchester willingly traveling to the South? Won't you be disgraced? What will your family think?"

Charles smiled at her theatrics. "They'll think I've fallen head over heels for the most beautiful girl west of the Mississippi."

She playfully hit him. "Flattery will get you no where."

Reluctantly, Charles let her go. "You sure you won't come with me? I can get you a seat on the plane."

She settled back against the pillows. "I'm sure your family wouldn't appreciate an intruder on your first days back."

Charles actually figured they wouldn't even notice, so busy would they be with their personal lives. Honoria would notice, and she would be thrilled. He reached out and touched her cheek. "I love you, Miss Callahan. Don't you forget it while I'm away."

Jessie turned and kissed his fingertips. "I love you, too, Dr. Winchester. And it doesn't matter how rich you are, if you don't go, your plane's leaving without you."

Laughing, Charles sat his hat on his head. With one last glance, he was gone, closing the door to the suite with a soft click.

Jessie settled back onto the bed, yawning.


	37. Chapter 37

It started as soon as she returned home. There were three dozen red roses waiting for her in the foyer when she entered the front door of her house, their sweet scent filling the entire first floor. They were followed by wonderful bouquets of lilies, irises, daisies and others that covered the entire spectrum of the rainbow.

The local florist was ecstatic at the dramatic increase in business, and she merrily traveled to the Callahan mansion each day, another large arrangement in her delivery truck. The parade continued for two solid weeks. Eventually, there were so many that Jessie had to practically beg Charles to stop.

"Mattie says if she ever sees another flower again, she'll drown herself in the creek." She cradled the phone against her shoulder as she reached out and touched a petal on a bouquet of lilies and baby's breath.

Charles laughed, his merriment traveling the hundreds of miles through the wire. "Would you prefer jewelry? Or furs? Maybe fine wine?"

"Anything but fur. It never gets that cold down here."

_But, I don't plan for you to be down there long_. Charles cleared his throat. "No more flowers. I just tried to think of a way to let you know I missed you. And think about you." _Often. All the time. Every minute of every day_.

Jessie distracted her toddling nephew - who was about to pull the entire arrangement on his head - with a toy she had stuck in her pocket earlier, and he ambled away, chewing on it happily. "I miss you, too."

"When are you coming to Boston?"

Jessie cleared her throat, listening to the static on the line. "I just don't think-I don't think it's the right time. Your parents . . . they might not appreciate the intrusion."

"They've met you and speak quite highly of you, actually."

"I don't know. . ."

"What's wrong?"

"Charles, your parents scare me," Jessie blurted out, turning towards the wall for privacy at Mattie's curious glances. "They're so proper and reserved and . . .and . . . and correct! Sure, they approve of me as a visitor in their home, but as . . . as an eligible young lady seeing their son . . . _sleeping_ with their son, I just don't know."

Charles sighed. They've had this conversation before. "I told you, there is nothing for them not to like. And even if they didn't approve, which I doubt, it wouldn't matter."

_Yes it would._ She knew it. He couldn't turn off their approval like he thought.

Jessie heard someone talking in the background.

"Look, Jessamyn, I've got to go. They have several car accident victims arriving."

Jessie swallowed hard, not wanting to end the conversation on this note. "I love you, Charles." _Just be patient with me_.

"I love you, too," he said gruffly, before hanging up the phone.

Jessie hung up the receiver and rubbed her arms, suddenly sad. It had been easy to profess their love and such while in California, away from the realities that both of their worlds demanded. _What if now that he was home, he would realize she wouldn't fit in with his lifestyle?_ _When he has time to think about it, what if he changes his mind? What if she visited, and she hated it?_

Jessie touched the lily again and jumped as Arthur announced dinner was served. Smiling determinedly, she went in to eat with her family.

************************************

"So, what do you think? Do you think she'll like it?"

Johnny held out the box with the elegant engagement ring for Jessie's inspection.

"Oh, Johnny, I think she'll love it! She'll be crazy not to."

He closed the box and put it in his coat pocket. "I can't believe I'm getting married. And all because I got caught speeding one too many times!"

Jessie hugged her brother. "She has to say yes, first. Right?"

He rolled her eyes. "Honestly. You sure know how to take the wind out of someone's sails."

Johnny had been given a month's community service for racking up a number of speeding tickets in his souped-up sports car. Rather reluctantly, among all his choices for probation, he picked helping out at the local veteran's hospital. That's where he met Molly. She was a struggling single mother trying to make ends meet by working at the front desk. Her husband had been killed in Korea, and she had a daughter to support. He adored the shy, brown-eyed girl, and she had become a regular playmate for Andrea's boys.

"Can you believe Meggy? I didn't know those nephews of ours could be still long enough to sip tea, their little pinky fingers in the air." The siblings laughed together.

"So, what has Dad said? About the engagement?"

Johnny nervously rubbed his hands on his pants. "When we started dating, he was concerned about her motives. But, Molly doesn't have a devious bone in her body!"

That was true. No matter how much Johnny bought Molly gifts and flowers, she wouldn't go out with him. Not until one day when Molly brought Meg to work because she was sick, and Molly couldn't find a baby-sitter. Johnny was instantly captivated by the girl. Molly figured if her daughter adored him, then he must be OK.

"I have to admit, I was a little shocked at first. Molly just isn't as . . .as . . ." Jessie tried to think of a word to describe Johnny's previous girlfriends.

"Busty? Dumb? Money-grubbing?"

"That's it! All of those!"

"But, Dad seems fairly pleased. Well, as pleased as he gets."

Arthur interrupted to tell Johnny his car was ready.

Nervously, he stood. "Well, wish me luck."

Jessie hugged her brother tightly. "You'll do fine. And Meggy'll be just fine here with me and the boys. "

"Andrea needs to pay you for being their nanny. You spend more time with them than any of us!"

Jessie's smile faltered. "I-I just missed so much while I was gone. I guess I want to make up for lost time." And try to recapture some of the childish exuberance that had been missing in her life since Korea.

Johnny practically danced out the door.

Jessie watched her brother through the window as he raced to his car, revved the engine and sped up the driveway, oblivious to getting another ticket. Her smile faded as fast as the dust settling on the road.

It had been over a month since Charles had come home. They called each other daily, sometimes more than once, but he had become increasingly dissatisfied with just speaking on the phone, she could tell. Jessie fought the loneliness with volunteer work and her nephews, but late at night, when she was finally alone in her room filled with small gifts of a long-distance relationship, it was difficult.

She loved Charles, but she didn't want to fall below his – and his parents' – expectations and disappoint them. His life was so different from her own. She was going to have to make a decision to visit, and soon, judging by the frustration in his voice.

"Miss Jessie?" a small voice asked.

Jessie turned, her thoughts interrupted. "Hey, Meggy, where's the boys?"

Meg rolled her eyes, looking fourteen instead of four. "They're playing in the backyard with worms. Nanny's out there with them, and she said I could come inside and find you."

Jessie reached out and took the little girl's hand. "Well, let's just see what we can find to do that doesn't involve icky worms, shall we?"

***************************************

Jessie was plain worn-out. After building blanket forts, which the boys decided was more their thing than worms, they went outside and played hide-and-seek. After lunch, Jessie read to them before Nanny put them to bed for their naps. During the lull, Jessie caught up on some administrative work. But, before she knew it, the children were scampering back up the hall into her father's study, wanting to know what to do next.

By dinner, Johnny and Molly returned, a flush Molly shyly wearing her new engagement ring. The entire family celebrated their engagement, Mattie already wanting to know a date. When Molly gave her one less than a year down the road, Mattie turned as white as she possibly could.

"Lawd, child, I hope you know what you're doing."

Molly adoringly looked at her husband-to-be. "Oh, Miss Mattie, I do."

"Mattie, child. It's just Mattie. You're family now, honey." Mattie dabbed her eyes. "Oh, my baby boy is getting married!" She sniffled as she lumbered back to the kitchen.

"I hate to see how she'll act when _you_ get married," Johnny whispered from across the table to Jessie. "You're really her baby."

Molly smiled, brushing a strand of brown hair off her cheek. "Johnny tells me you met someone in Korea. A doctor."

Jessie blushed and reached for her water glass. "Yes. He's the chief of thoracic surgery at Boston Mercy."

"Wow. You must be proud."

"Yeah, and scared to death."

Molly looked shocked. "_You_? Scared?"

Jessie studied the girl. "Well, yeah. You see, he comes from . . .from a well-established blue-blooded family. My intrusion might . . . might not be welcome."

Molly looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I declare. I never would have believed that a Callahan would not think they were good enough. And be scared of anything."

"What do you mean?" Johnny asked.

Molly smiled lovingly at him. "It's just that growing up, I always saw all of you as having it all, the best clothes, the best cars, the best education. You have no reason to feel inferior."

"But Boston high society is not like our society," Jessie pointed out.

"Maybe so. How to you think I felt, coming from nothing and wanting so much for all of you to accept me? I thought there was no way I could ever impress any of you enough to invite me willingly into your family."

"Yeah, she was scared for weeks. I couldn't talk her into even having lunch with us." Johnny draped his arm behind her chair.

Jessie paused. "But, we're not like that at all. "

"See? My fears were unfounded. Yours could be, too."

Jessie shrugged. "I suppose."

"You know what I decided I would do if all of you didn't like me?"

"What?"

"I was going to be with him anyway. I don't live me life based on what someone's family thinks of me and wants me to do. I live my life for me." A shriek interrupted the conversation. "Now, excuse me, I need to see what Meggy's into now."

Jessie was stunned. Hadn't she hurled those same words to Charles in anger one night in the Swamp?

Johnny leaned closer. "She's great, isn't she?"

Jessie didn't know what to say.

Charles was attending a conference in New York. He had called her and let her know he would be unreachable for the next few days, so all she had to do was wait.

**************************************

Charles had to admit, he was impressed.

The cab driver drove slowly down the driveway, lined with magnificent Spanish oaks, limbs almost touching the ground, each branch draped with moss. The house itself did look antebellum, with four large columns dominating the front. White curtains billowed in the downstairs windows, opened to let in the breeze. The sloping lawn was well-maintained. Nearby, a large red barn dominated the scenery, and Charles could see horses and long-horned cattle grazing nearby. On the cab ride from the airport, Charles had noted the oil rigs that dotted the landscape. He wondered which of them belonged to Jessie's father.

As he stepped out to pay the driver, a little girl ran across the front lawn and hid behind a bush next to the house. She happened to spot Charles and immediately forgot her game. Cautiously, she approached him. He kneeled down at eye level with her.

"Who're you?"

"Charles. Who are you, young lady?"

"My name is Meg. But, my mother calls me Meggy. And Mr. Johnny. But, he's going to be my daddy." Remembering her manners, she executed a wobbly curtsey.

Charles smiled, rememberingd meeting Johnny briefly at camp. He stood up and bowed.

She giggled, taking his hand. "Come on, Mr. Cha-rles," Meg tried to mimic his accent. "We're playing hide and seek. David's supposed to find us, but Nanny always helps him because he's little.

Obediently, Charles was led away. He decided he liked Jessie's home. He never played games like this when he was younger with his nanny. And never on the front lawn.

Meg led him to the corner of the house and peeked around. "OK, it's safe."

Without warning, Jessie barreled around the house shrieking, a little boy hot on her heels, his little legs pumping for all they were worth. Meg dropped Charles's hand and took off for the barn before she was spotted, squealing.

Jessie didn't see Charles standing there. She ran into him at full speed, knocking them both to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry . . ." Jessie started. Her voice fell away when she realized who it was.

The little boy, panting, came up beside them. "Aunt Jess, are you OK?" he whispered, genuinely concerned.

Jessie nodded her head stupidly, trying to figure out if she had hit her head and was seeing things.

"Good! Then _tag!Y_you're it!" He slapped Jessie on the arm and took off running in the direction of the barn.

Jessie didn't even notice.

"What on earth . . . How did you . . . How long have . . ."

"You know, I expected a wonderful reception, but nothing like this."

Embarrassed, Jessie tried to get up. "Why didn't you call? I thought you were in . . ." Charles interrupted her with a kiss. Her cheeks were flushed from her game and her hair blew around her head like a hallo. He knew they were in her front yard, and she was lying on top of him, but he couldn't help himself.

"Eeewww!" three children sang all at once. The nanny tried to shush them.

Jessie broke off the kiss, thoroughly embarrassed, and helped Charles off the ground. "Around here, you never know what kind of reception you'll get."

"Lawd, what is all this racket outside my window? I declare, I can't get a thing done with all this noise!" Mattie stopped wiping her hands on her apron when she saw Jessie sheepishly standing on the lawn, her arm linked with Charles's. He was grinning down at her. "Miss Jessie, are you going to let your guest stay on the front lawn all day? Or, are you going to introduce him?"

Jessie jumped. "Oh, Mattie, this is Charles. Charles Emerson Winchester the Third."

He bowed slightly towards Mattie. "You must be Matilda. Jessamyn has told me so much about you."

Mattie studied him out of one eye, unfazed. "Are you the one who filled this house with so many flowers that it looked like a greenhouse?"

"Why, yes. Unless Jessamyn has other suitors I don't know about."

Jessie rolled her eyes.

"Not that she hasn't had plenty sniffing around. She's an eligible young lady, you know." She shook her wooden spoon at Charles. "If you don't make more appearances around here, she's liable to marry one of them other young bucks."

Jessie put her head in her hands. "Jeez, Mattie . . ."

Charles rocked back on his heels, amused.

"Don't Mattie me, young lady!" Mattie turned her spoon-shaking towards Jessie. "Now, both of you, get in this house!" She pointed the spoon in the direction of the children. "And you, stay out of my way while I'm cooking!"

Charles noted that none of the children looked overly concerned with the warning, scampering merrily away, their nanny at their heels. He picked up his suitcase and motioned towards Jessie, who was so embarrassed, she wouldn't look at him. "After you, Miss Jessamyn."

Jessie led him into the house. "How in the world did you manage to get away?"

Charles admired the mahogany floors and spiral stair case in the airy foyer. Three large oil paintings, one each of the three siblings painted when they were children dominated the foyer. He could easily tell Jessamyn from her sister. It was the playful glint in her eyes, even at such a young age. "Conference was canceled, and I found myself with three whole days with nothing to do. So, of course, I elected for a surprise visit."

Mattie bellowed for her husband and gave him instructions on preparing a bedroom for their guest.

Jessie squeezed Charles's arm. "I'm glad you did."

**********************************

They didn't have a moment to themselves the entire day. News travels fast in a small town, and friends and relatives came to visit, curious about the Boston doctor that one of their most eligible young ladies had taken up with. Charles took it all in stride. But then again, that was normal for him.

For dinner, Mattie demanded that everyone wear their finest. Even Andrea's two boys were decked out in miniature suits and ties, much to their chagrin.

Throughout the meal, Charles couldn't keep his eyes off her. _Why had he let her stay away so long?_ She wore a simple red dress that brought out the highlights in her hair. Each time she laughed, the candle light would sparkle off the diamonds in her ears. He made a mental note to ask his mother whatever happened to his grandmother's heirloom diamond necklace. Honoria was not interested in it, and he could just see it gracing Jessie's neck. He longed to be alone with her and kiss that lovely neck, too.

Jessie leaned over, talking in hushed tones to Molly. She caught Charles's stare and color rose in her cheeks, almost as if she could read his thoughts. Johnny, sitting on her other side, elbowed her in the side and whispered something in her ear that made her blush even deeper.

Charles laughed as she gave her brother a dirty look. He enjoyed the easy banter among the family at the table and thought of the rather stuffy dinners he had at home with his own family. He could see where Jessie would feel a little out-of-place. Hell, he even felt out of place at times, especially after Korea.

Arthur served them after-dinner drinks in the front parlor. Immediately afterwards, Andrea and Hank left with two sleepy boys in tow, and Johnny had bowed out with Molly and Meg. After kissing Jessie on the check, her father retreated to his study. Finally, they found themselves alone.

With a sigh, Jessie flopped down next to Charles on the loveseat. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him as she settled against his side. They sat in silence, listening to the house settle, enjoying being alone.

"When do you have to leave?"

"Tomorrow night. I have to be at the hospital early Monday morning." He rubbed her arm absently. "Have I told you that you look lovely this evening?"

"Only several dozen times."

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

Jessie snuggled closer. "My family really likes you."

"Even the formidable Matilda?"

Jessie chuckled. "Oh, she likes you alright. If she didn't, she would've hit you with that spoon!"

Charles kissed her temple. "What did your brother say? You're her baby?"

"I guess she always felt like she had to stand in for my mother."

"It must be comforting to enjoy such closeness."

He could feel Jessie nod in agreement against his chest. The smell of her hair tantalized his senses, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Jessie raised up. "Charles?"

"Mmmm?"

"When do you think I can come to Boston? You know, for a visit?"

Taken aback, Charles said, "Are you serious?"

"Sure, I'm serious."

Charles's heart soared. "What brought about this delightful change?"

Jessie told him about her and Molly's conversation the day before. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

Charles smirked. "I knew I liked that woman."

Jessie laughed, and her earrings sparkled. Charles reached up and brushed his fingers along her neckline. "I love those. Were they a gift?"

"You're not going to believe this, but if I remember correctly, they were from Mark. A long time ago. _Really_ long time ago."

Charles stopped. "The country western singer? With the USO tour? The one that . . ." He stopped before he mentioned Radar, but Jessie didn't seem to notice. "Who'd have guessed that man would have such good taste?"

Jessie gave him a mean look.

"In jewelry. You know what I mean!"

He kissed her, softly at first. _God, how he'd missed her!_

Jessie sighed as he kissed along her jawline, then worked his way down her neck. "You know, if Mattie catches us, she'll chase you out of here with the broom."

"What, no spoon?" Her perfume was making him crazy.

She shivered as he gently touched her, the thin gown she wore doing nothing to dispel the heat in his fingers. "She actually chased one of my boyfriends off the porch with a broom one night. The poor kid was so scared, he wouldn't come to my house again. She's sneaky, too. You won't hear him coming."

Jessie was disappointed when he stopped and pulled away. He twirled a strand of her hair on his finger, trying to hide his frustration. "I suppose you're right. I don't really want to sleep in the barn."

"Oh, she wouldn't let you on the property. You'd have to sleep in the pasture with the cows."

"Wouldn't be much different from the Swamp, would it?"

As if on cue, Mattie appeared in the doorway. After appraising the situation and finding nothing amiss, she shook her finger at Jessie. "OK, Miss Jessie, don't you think you should be getting to bed? You have to be up bright and early in the morning for the horse show."

Jessie almost smacked her forehead. "Oh, I forgot!"

"Horse show?"

"I own some race horses, but my father is starting to get into the other, more 'tasteful' forms of riding, as he calls it. He's bought some horses and hired some equestrian riders. He wanted me to do it, but I left for Korea about the time he decided."

"Sounds entertaining."

"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to go. I'll be home before lunch."

"Nonsense. I traveled all this way to be with you, so wherever you go, I'll be right there."

"I didn't want to leave you here without me anyway. Mattie might decide to grill you on your intentions."

Mattie harrumphed in the corner. "I'll catch him sooner or later. Now, get upstairs young lady."

"Yes, ma'am." Giving Charles a peck on the cheek, she gathered up her skirt and left the room, humming to herself. Mattie peered after Jessie as she drifted up the staircase.

She turned and eyed Charles warily, shaking her head, and mumbled all the way to the kitchen.

Charles followed. The large kitchen was spotless, all the latest gadgets and appliances proudly on display. Pots and pans were hung from hooks on the ceiling and someone, Charles figured it was the cook, was scrubbing the last large pot in the sink.

Mattie started drying. "Well?"

Charles cleared his throat, nervous in the presence of Jessie's surrogate mother. "I – I needed to ask your advice on something."

Mattie narrowed her eyes at Charles, but he didn't let her scare him. With a nod, she shooed the cook out of the kitchen, rolling her sleeves up her ample arms to take over the washing. "She's my baby, you know."

Charles smiled. "I know." He reached in the inside of his coat. "I wanted your opinion."

Mattie scrubbed the pot harder. "What would that be?"

He handed her a photograph. Mattie dried her hands on her apron and took it, looking at Charles suspiciously. He met her gaze evenly.

She looked down at the picture. "It's a house."

Charles cleared his throat. "Well, it's not just any house. It was my aunt's. Her parents – my grandparents - built it when she was little. She left it to me after she died awhile back. We've been using it for storage, but it's in wonderful shape."

Mattie looked up at him. "What does she think?"

Charles took the picture and put it back in his coat pocket. "I haven't showed her."

Mattie sighed. "I knew this day was comin'." She resumed her scrubbing, sniffling a little.

"Do you think Jessamyn will like it?"

Mattie sniffed loudly. "Oh, she'll like it. But, she needs more than houses and flowers and jewelry." She turned around to look at Charles. "She can be stubborn and mule-headed and at times, you're going to want to shake her."

"Oh, I know."

"You do?"

"Quite. She and I have . . . have butted heads more than once."

Mattie nodded her approval. "All I want is for her to be happy. Can you do that?"

"I most certainly will try with all my heart."

Mattie patted Charles on the arm fondly. "Then, you have my blessing. But, you do know that my opinion is not the one that really matters." She pointed towards the ceiling and Mr. Callahan's study.

"I think your opinion matters to her more than anything."

Mattie's eyes welled up, and she turned, dabbing at them with her apron. "Get out of here, so I can finish these dishes before tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Of all my babies, Miss Jessie was the one I never would guess would move so far away," Charles heard her mumble as she continued her vigorous scrubbing.


	38. Chapter 38

They had a wonderful time the following day at the horse show, with the Callahan horses winning and showing. After a light lunch at the house with the family, Jessie and Charles managed to get away the entire afternoon, long enough to go horseback riding themselves. She showed him the property lines and even a few of the oil wells in the distance as they rode along, several of her hunting dogs racing along, baying at anything in their paths. She showed Charles some of her favorite places on the property, including a huge oak tree that grew by itself in the middle of one of the pastures, a tire swing dangling from one of its branches.

Through the woods on a grassy spot by a small creek, Jessie spread out a red-checked blanket, and they ate the late afternoon snack Mattie had packed. Afterwards, they made love and lay in each others arms, listening to the snuffling of the grazing horses and the faraway baying of the dogs.

"Will they come back?"

"Sure. Watch this."

Jessie sat up and whistled shrilly three times. After a few moments, the baying got louder, and the entire pack emerged in the clearing, tails wagging. Jessie praised each of them.

"Smart brutes, aren't they?"

She scratched the ears of a pretty black and tan. "They better be."

Towards dark, they reluctantly left their spot and followed the dogs home.

Mattie was waiting for them at the back door, the light from inside glowing around her imposing figure. "You two stayed gone long enough."

"Well, it's a large piece of property, Mattie. Takes awhile to get around."

Mattie eyed their rumpled clothes and picked a strand of grass out of Jessie's hair. "I guess you felt the need to roll around in it, too."

Jessie winked at Charles, who was edging towards the door and away from the dreaded spoon. "We had to stop and let the horses rest, Mattie. How mad would Dad be if I brought one of his prized horses back lame?"

Mattie huffed all the way back to the kitchen.

She squeezed Charles's arm lightly. "Let me go upstairs and change. I want to go with you and Arthur to the airport."

As soon as Jessie was safely upstairs, Charles saw his chance. He made his way down the hall and stood in front of her father's study door. After a momentary hesitation, he knocked.

"Come in," Mr. Callahan mumbled.

Taking a deep breath, Charles entered. The study was similar to his father's, except for the pictures of oil rigs and horse trophies of all shapes and sizes that graced the walls.

His father wouldn't be caught dead with a photo of an oil rig in his house. Despite the fact oil brings a fortune to astronomical proportions.

Mr. Callahan stood up and shook Charles's hand. "So, Winchester, what do you think of our humble little abode so far?"

"I don't think it's very little at all. In fact, I think it's quite grand."

Mr. Callahan puffed his chest up a bit. "Started out with 20 acres. As soon as I struck oil, I began buying up the surrounding land as fast as I could. A man's nothing without some property to his name."

Charles nodded in agreement. "My father has said the same thing many times. It's a sound principle."

"I met your father awhile back. I understand you come from a well-to-do family yourself. Drink?" He turned to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Charles tried not to shudder. "Uh, no thank you."

"Don't worry, Winchester." He reached underneath and pulled out a decanter of cognac. "I heard about your aversion to bourbon. I had Arthur pick this up today. I thought you might come to see me before you left."

Charles gratefully took the offered glass. "I guess you can't fool a man when it comes to his daughter."

"Damn straight. Smoke?"

Charles shook his head.

Mr. Callahan settled behind his desk. "Good man. Nasty habit, but I can't seem to shake it." He leaned back in his chair, reminding Charles so much of Col. Potter that he had to smile. "So, Winchester, what can I do for you?"

Charles stood up, almost as nervous as he was the day he started med school. "I – I wanted to ask you . . . ask if . . ." he nervously cleared his throat. "For permission to . . . to marry your daughter. Sir."

At the mention of Jessie, her father's face softened. He straightened up in his chair. "Ah, my little girl. So much like her mother. More so than any of our children." He looked fondly at a painting of a dark-haired woman next to the doorway. "Before I answer, let me ask you something."

Charles nodded.

"God knows you can provide for her, but do you love her?"

Charles briefly thought about his conversation with Mattie. He could not imagine his father being concerned with any of Honoria's suitors actually loving her. "Yes, I do. I have for a long time."

Mr. Callahan rose and walked across the room, stopping before his wife's painting.

Charles studied it, too. Jessie did resemble her mother. It was the stubborn set of her jaw.

Mr. Callahan took a sip of whiskey and cleared his throat. "A long time ago, I think when Jessie was seven or maybe eight, Arthur caught her fighting with one of Johnny's friends. Apparently, he had teased her about something, I don't remember what, and Jessie took it to heart. She proceeded to beat the daylights out of the boy. Arthur sent him home howling to his mother."

Charles smiled at the picture it made, as did her father.

"Well, Mattie and I sat her down and explained to her that she was a young lady. And in her position in society, she needed to act like one. And you know what she said? She said, as plain as day, 'I didn't ask to have money. If I want to fight boys, I'll fight boys. You can't stop me.'"

Charles had to fight the urge to laugh aloud.

"As you know, she continued to balk. She basically drove me crazy. She even took up with that infernal Mark and flaunted an engagement ring to boot. Then, she joined the Army. Good Lord, I pulled every string I could and couldn't get her out of it."

He turned around to face Charles. "I'm telling you all this because I want you to understand something. She can be stubborn as a mule, but she has a heart of gold. I honestly didn't know what she was going to do with herself, but lo and behold, she brings you home." He held his glass up to Charles. "You have my blessing, Winchester. But know something. You're not going to mold her to Boston's way of thinking. Don't expect her to be something she's not."

"I wouldn't want to."

"Good." He drained his glass. "I also want to thank you for saving her life."

"Sir?"

"I know it was you who operated on her. I have many contacts close to the Army. I asked around."

Charles could only nod, his fear returning to briefly wrap around his heart.

Mr. Callahan continued. "I also know about the incident with the Chinese on the side of the road. Stubborn woman! Didn't even tell us herself!"

They could hear voices rise in the hallway. "Leave them alone, Miss Jessie. They're having a man-to-man chat."

"Mattie, his plane's leaving in less than an hour!"

"Well, he can catch another plane!"

"Mattie, would you please move, so I can drag him out of there!"

Mr. Callahan shook Charles's hand. "Good luck, son. I think you're goin' need it."

**************************

Jessie nervously licked her lips, watching the Boston scenery zip by. She settled into the plush limo, grateful for the warmth. Although it was still quite pleasant in Texas in November, snow was falling in soft white flakes when her plane arrived in Boston.

Charles had to work late, but he sent a car for her. She was greeted quite professionally by James, the butler, who seemed to remember her from her visit earlier in the year, a pleasant smile on his withered face.

Large, stately estates began to dominate the scenery, and Jessie squirmed in the seat, praying for guidance. She agreed to the visit, feeling brave at the time. Now, she was out of her element, and she had a hard time summoning the same bravery. She wished Charles were there when she was re-introduced to his parents.

James pulled up to the stately townhouse and rushed around to open the door for Jessie. The snow made the grand house look picturesque, and Jessie admired it for a moment before James escorted her inside.

They were almost bowled over by Honoria. "J-J-Jessie! It's b-been a long time!"

Jessie hugged the young woman. "I heard you have a boyfriend, too."

Honoria blushed prettily. "Oh, it's no b-b-big deal." Jessie knew it was. He was an intern from an upper-middle class background who worked with Charles at the hospital. He was taken with Honoria the minute he laid eyes on her. Charles said he expected him to talk to their father any day now.

If he approved or not remained to be seen.

Somehow, Jessie didn't think Honoria would really care.

James helped her with her coat, and Honoria led them into the parlor. Mr. Winchester rose when they entered the room. "Miss Callahan. We're pleased you could join us this weekend."

Charles's mother rose and hugged Jessie briefly. "Charles has been in such a state about your arrival. He hated not to be able to meet you at the airport."

"That's quite alright."

"Would you like some tea? You must be chilled to the bone."

They passed the time with tea and light conversation, mostly about the ball they would be attending the following evening in honor of family friends. Jessie slowly relaxed, the fire light casting a cozy glow throughout the room.

Mr. Winchester bowed out soon after ten, leaving the women alone. Charles arrived soon afterwards, exhausted. Laying eyes on Jessie, all his tiredness vanished. He walked in as she and his mother were laughing at something Honoria had said. They all looked up as he walked inside.

"Sorry I'm so late. It's this blasted snow. People have to remember how to drive in it all over again, it seems."

Jessie jumped up, almost spilling tea on her dress. Mrs. Winchester greeted her son first, bussing him on the cheek. "That's OK, dear. Honoria was just telling us about the tea she attended yesterday. You know, the one where Mrs. Elby's dog wound up in the pool?"

"Yes, Mother, I heard."

Honoria winked at her brother, but he hardly noticed, so intent was he on Jessie. He walked across the room and stood in front of her. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he raised her hand to his, brushing his lips against her fingers. "How was your trip?"

Mrs. Winchester raised an eyebrow. Honoria giggled behind her hand.

Neither one noticed.

Jessie tried not to grin stupidly. "Fine. Just fine. You think the snow will keep us from the ball tomorrow night?"

He still held onto her hand. "No, not one bit."

Honoria leaned over. "Tame g-g-greeting compared t-t-to the one you g-g-gave him, isn't it?"

"That was an accident!" Jessie hissed.

Charles laughed at her discomfort, as Mrs. Winchester looked confused.

"So, Jessamyn, have you seen the rest of the house?" Her hair looked a darker shade of auburn in the firelight, and he longed to touch it.

Jessie shook her head. "I didn't get the grand tour the last time."

He practically drug her out of the room. "Let me show you around before you retire. Good night, Mother, Honoria."

Mrs. Winchester looked at her daughter after they were gone. "You know, I think he likes her."

Honoria rolled her eyes. "_Really_, Mother."

Charles led Jessie down the hall to the darkened library. A dying fire was all the illuminated the room. Once inside, his mouth hungrily searching hers, fighting the desire to lay her down in front of the fireplace.

Finally, he pulled away, putting some distance between them.

"It's good to see you, too," Jessie croaked, straightening her sweater.

"I've had such an awful week. The only thing that kept me from going mad was knowing you were visiting this weekend." He reached out and ran his finger down her cheek. "Did you bring something to wear to the ball?"

Jessie nodded. "I think you'll like it. And don't change the subject. What happened this week?"

"Just technical things." He paused. " And I lost a patient today. A little boy, about nine. He was sledding and lost control, ramming a tree branch into his chest."

Jessie put her arms around him, resting against his chest. "Is it as hard as it was in Korea? To lose a patient like that?"

"At least here, it was just an accident. But, that doesn't help. And . . ." He trailed off, sighing.

"And, what?" Jessie asked, her voice muffled in his sweater.

"I had a long talk with a . . . a fellow doctor this week. A urologist, actually."

Jessie pulled back, anxious. Her eyes searched his. "What's wrong?"

"It's just that . . . well, remember when I had the mumps?"

"Yeah?"

"One of the effects of that particular disease is . . . is becoming sterile."

Jessie didn't realize she was holding her breath until she let it go in a great burst. "Good Lord, I thought you were dying!"

"Well, I might as well! When I die, the Winchester name goes!"

He let go of her, trying to pull away, but Jessie held on. "Wait, Charles, you know I didn't mean it like that." She wrapped her arms around him, settling against his chest again, not letting him pull away from her. "Tell me, what did he say?"

She could feel him give in, continuing to play with the ends of her hair. "He didn't know. The best way to tell, as he so eloquently put it, was to 'wait and see.'"

"He went to school for 10 years for that?"

"Precisely what I was thinking."

"Well, that's good news, isn't it? Perhaps you can still have children."

"If I can't?"

"Then, your wife will have to love you for you." She propped her chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Whoever she may be."

He kissed her forehead. "I suppose you're right. But suppose . . ." He paused, gathering his thoughts. " . . .suppose, I asked you to be my wife. Would it matter to you?"

She loved children, enjoying her nephews immensely, but the idea of having her own never even crossed her mind.

"I suppose not. But, it's not like you've asked, you know. Like Mattie said, I've had several young bucks nosing about. You better stay on your toes, mister!"

He thought of the obscenely expensive ring he was picking up tomorrow at the jewelers. "I suppose I better."

******************************************

"Wow, J-Jessie! That d-dress is g-g-great! Wherever d-d-did you get it?"

Jessie twirled around in Honoria's dressing room, making the smooth green material swirl majestically. "I ordered it from New York. It's supposed to be the latest style. Didn't want to look like a Texas bumpkin."

Honoria waved her hand impatiently. "Really, d-dear, you need to g-g-get over this inferiority c-complex."

"I do _not_ have an inferiority complex!"

"Do, too!"

"Do not!"

"D-do, too!"

Jessie smiled. "OK, maybe you're right."

Honoria returned her smile triumphantly, and Jessie stuck out her tongue.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Yes?"

A maid stuck her head inside. "Miss Honoria, Daniel is here, and your parents and brother are ready to leave."

Honoria tucked her arm inside Jessie's. "You d-do know that Charles w-w-will have to chase the other g-gentlemen away w-w-with a stick!"

Jessie blushed. "Honestly, Honoria! You act like I'll be the only woman at this dance."

Honoria's eyes danced as the walked down the darkened hall. "You're new b-b-blood. M-makes the m-m-men a little c-crazy."

Jessie followed Honoria down the staircase where the rest of the group waited.

Charles resisted the urge to let out a low whistle as he watched her descend.

"Charles, it's n-not p-p-polite to stare," Honoria whispered as she regally sauntered past her brother to greet Daniel. Their parents were gathering their coats nearby.

Charles ignored his sister. Jessie reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. "So, what do you think?"

"Lovely. Very lovely." He absently patted the coat of his tux to make sure the small box was still there.

He offered Jessie his arm, and she took it. Instead of following his family out the door to the waiting limo, he stopped.

"Excuse me, but Jessamyn and I will meet you at the hall. We'll take my car."

Mrs. Winchester eyed her son closely. "Are you feeling alright, Charles?"

Charles's father hurried his wife into the waiting car. "Come on, dear, let's not keep the Bullocks waiting." He climbed in beside her, but not before giving his son a slight nod. Honoria giggled uproariously as she and Daniel climbed in alongside.

Jessie looked up at Charles as the car roared off. "What's all this about?"

Charles helped her into one of his sister's mink coats. She still insisted she didn't need her own. _Well, all that's about to change. I hope._ "I have a surprise for you."

Jessie snuggled into the coat as he helped her down the slippery steps to the waiting car. "What sort of surprise?"

"You'll see." He climbed into the driver's side and slipped the luxury vehicle into gear.

She watched him as he drove. "You've been really secretive, you know. What're you up to?" Actually, he was so late earlier in the evening that he almost didn't have enough time to get ready for the party.

Charles smiled, but left his eyes on the road. "Just be patient."

Jessie rolled her eyes.

"I saw that."

"It's dark in here. You didn't see a thing."

"Doesn't matter. I know you."

Jessie fondly took his hand.

Before long, they entered a neighborhood of large homes. Whereas his family's townhouse was without a very large front yard and only had a garden in the back, similar to other houses nearby, this neighborhood had large front lawns with Victorian mansions set back from the road. Many of the houses had lighted front windows that shown cheerily out onto the snowy lawns. Jessie looked out the frosty window, impressed.

"Very friendly place."

Charles could feel his heart beating fast. "Quite."

They stopped in front of one of the homes. A few of the downstairs windows were lit, but the upstairs remained dark. Curious, Jessie waited for Charles to open the door. She almost gasped when the cold air hit her. "I don't know how you do it. I don't think it ever gets below 40 degrees at home."

"Oh, you get used to it," Charles replied, preoccupied.

Jessie did manage to stand outside the house for a moment, admiring the Victorian trim. "Such a beautiful home. Who lives here?"

"No one, at the moment."

Jessie stopped as he motioned for her to step onto the front porch. "We're not going to get shot for trespassing, are we?"

"Not a chance."

He opened the front door, and Jessie entered. The foyer was done entirely in wood paneling, and the floor shined with age and use. She walked towards the hallway, then stopped, turning to face Charles questioningly. He smiled and motioned her forward.

Jessie couldn't help but be awed by the house. Although sparsely decorated, it felt homey and lived-in. A large chandelier graced the foyer and several rooms exited off the front hall. Only one seemed lit, and Jessie gravitated towards the light from the fireplace.

This room made her stop. The room had been painted white, and the decorative woodcarvings along the ceiling danced in the firelight. This room was also sparsely furnished, but the fire made the room seem cheery. "Oh, this is wonderful," Jessie found herself saying. Charles helped her out of her coat. "But, I'm still a little confused. No angry homeowner is going to come running down the stairs, is he?"

Charles hung her coat in the foyer. "Sit down, and I'll tell you about this house."

Jessie settled on a small, overstuffed couch facing the fireplace, holding out her hands for the warmth.

Charles settled beside her. "This house belonged to my spinster aunt. She lived here all her life, most of it by herself, after my grandparents died. My grandfather built the house about 70 years ago, but it's used mostly for storage now."

"Well, that explains the lack of furnishings. But, everything looks so clean."

"I hire someone to come out here once a month and do maintenance. Wouldn't want it to fall into disrepair. Especially in this neighborhood."

"Very responsible of you."

"Don't mock me, Callahan. Let me finish my story."

Jessie chuckled. "OK, OK. Go on."

Charles cleared his throat. "I remember visiting here when I was younger. It was always a happy time for me, especially after my brother . . . I always felt like good things would happen here to me. It was a . . . a safe house of sorts."

He reached in his coat pocket. Gently, he took her hand and placed something in it. His hand remained on hers, so she couldn't tell what it was.

"When my aunt left me this house in her will, she told me she wanted me to live here. With my family."

"I don't exactly see your parents moving here from across town."

"Not _that_ family. My _future_ family."

Charles removed his hand from hers, and Jessie stared at the small box, a little dumbstruck. She glanced at him questioningly, and he motioned for her to open it, draping his arm across the back of the couch and leaning back to watch her reaction.

Slowly, she pulled the lid back, and her eyes widened. The firelight danced across the magnificent stone, surrounded on either side by smaller diamonds. Gingerly, Jessie removed it, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Charles . . . it's beautiful. I-I don't know what to say."

"You could try saying yes."

Jessie laughed aloud, brushing at her tears with her free hand. "Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee for this sort of thing?"

Charles slid off the couch, taking the ring from Jessie. He settled on one knee and took her hand in his. Clearing his throat, he began. "Jessamyn. For several months now, we've been apart. I don't like it one bit. I want to wake up with you by my side, and I want to come home to you every day. I want to grow old with you. You would make me the happiest man alive if you would be my wife."

Jessie wiped her eyes, trying not to smear her make-up. All she could do was nod her head, curls bouncing on top of her head. And, she couldn't stop grinning! Gently, he took her left hand and placed the ring on it. He turned her palm up and kissed it.

Jessie gathered her skirts and slid from the couch, settling beside him. She kissed him, then laughed aloud.

He pulled back. "What on earth is so funny?"

"I cannot believe I'm going to live in Boston! Andrea will never, ever believe it!"


	39. Chapter 39

They arrived at the ball late. Similar to Jessie's first outing in Boston, Honoria almost bowled her over when she and Charles arrived.

"L-l-let me s-s-see it!" She grabbed Jessie's left hand and gasped. "Oh, it's w-w-wonderful! I've always w-wanted a s-s-sister! I t-think I'm g-g-going to cry!" She threw her arms around Jessie's neck as Charles watched, bemused.

"Honoria! Let the poor girl catch her breath!" Mr. Winchester smiled as he said it, and Honoria, sniffing, let her go. Their mother was close behind, and her brows raised elegantly when she saw the ring on Jessie's left hand. She touched her husband on the arm and motioned towards it.

Jessie held her breath, waiting for a reaction. She felt Charles's hand on her back, steadying her.

"Mother, Father, I would like you to know that Jessamyn has agreed to be my wife."

Without warning, Mrs. Winchester sniffed, a tear falling down her face. "Jessamyn, dear! I'm so pleased! But, I didn't _know!_ We could have had a party and announced it properly." She hugged Jessie quickly, then looked at her husband. "I can't believe I didn't know. Did you?"

Mr. Winchester smiled secretively and shook his son's hand. He then took Jessie's hand in both of his. "Welcome to the family, Jessamyn."

And so it went throughout the evening. Jessie found herself shuffled from one group to the next, accepting profuse congratulations from all. Thankful for Mattie's upbringing, she remembered most of their names as she was ushered about the room, getting separated from Charles earlier in the evening.

When the dancing started, Jessie found herself with Charles's cousin Alfred as her first partner. He held her properly at arm's length. "So, Jessamyn, you're going to be a Winchester now. Big step from Texas, isn't it?"

Mentally, Jessie rolled her eyes. _Pompous windbag_. "We all put on our pants one leg at a time, don't we? And please, it's just Jessie."

They continued with the waltz. "Well, 'Just Jessie," I've heard you're a rather large heiress. I've always wanted to get into the oil business."

Jessie resisted the urge to stomp on his foot. She could always claim it was an accident. "Then, why don't you? I expect you can buy as much of it as you want." She tried to plaster a convincing smile on her face.

Alfred chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you're right. But, I guess there is something to say for marrying into oil. You do realize that the money and power is not on Charles's side of the family. . ."

"Excuse me, Alfred, but you don't mind if I cut in, do you?" Mr. Winchester didn't wait for an answer.

Alfred let go of Jessie and bowed. "Certainly not, Uncle. She is, after all, your future daughter-in-law." He smirked at Jessie before he was lost in the crowd.

"You looked like you could use a little help."

Jessie nodded gratefully as she followed his lead. "He is quite an exasperating young man," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"For a moment there, I thought you were going to deck him like you did the mayor's son."

Jessie could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. "I . . I . . that was not my finest hour. When you're that young, you don't think your sins will come back to haunt you."

Mr. Winchester laughed. "No need for apologies. If it were Honoria, I'd had wanted her to do the same thing. I have no use for men who treat women like common playthings."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about your daughter. She seems like she can hold her own in most any situation."

"Quite. I never worried much about her. Charles was always the one that concerned me the most."

Jessie looked up at him. "Why?"

"When he was drafted, I didn't know how well he'd hold up outside of the society he was reared in. I have to admit, his mother and I spoil both our children mercilessly."

Jessie thought about her own sheltered upbringing. "I don't think anything you could have done would have prepared him for Korea. It was . . .it was surreal."

He nodded thoughtfully as they continued the waltz. "He has come back a different person. At times, he could be as overbearing as my nephew."

"Don't worry. He still has it in him."

Mr. Winchester laughed aloud. "Maybe you can keep him straight then. I actually told him that when he told me he was going to propose."

Jessie's eyes widened. "I was under the impression that you and Mrs. Winchester didn't know."

"Oh, he didn't tell his mother. She would have carried so much, you would have known something was going on."

"I hope she's not mad."

Mr. Winchester shook his head. "Oh, no, not at all. She just gets a little emotional at times, especially when it comes to Charles."

Jessie had never seen Charles's mother act anything other than the perfect hostess. "I guess Honoria gets it honest, then."

Mr. Winchester grimaced, but then smiled. "Daniel will have his hands full with that one."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then cleared his throat. "After everything you went through in Korea, even Boston society must seem tame."

Jessie thought about the exhausting, bloody work, the threat of their own death constantly hanging over their heads.

He was right. This was tame.

The orchestra ended the piece, then immediately launched into another one. Another young man Jessie barely remembered offered to dance, the first in a string of men who politeness garnered they dance with her.

By the time Charles found her, she was laughing uproariously at something the mayor was saying, gallantly trying to avoid getting stepped on as he swung her around. When he saw Charles making his way towards them, he bowed out regally.

Jessie followed Charles's lead. "Whew! These people are wearing me _out_!"

"It seems you've partnered with most everyone in here. Even the mayor, and he rarely ever dances."

"Why is that?"

"Well, it seems his wife is the jealous sort."

Jessie almost panicked. "Don't tell me I've already done something I'm not supposed to!"

Charles laughed at her discomfort. "Oh, don't worry. She's not in attendance this evening. That's why you see the old coot dancing with anything in a skirt."

Jessie turned her head and saw 'the old coot' dancing with an older lady wearing a ton of expensive jewelry. "Guess you have to earn your votes somehow."

Charles pulled her closer. "You know, you're the most beautiful thing in this room."

"Oh, pul-lease. I've seen several young ladies here that keep giving me an 'eat shit and die' look that put me to shame."

Charles waved his hand. "Don't worry about them. Old girlfriends."

"Who says they're jealous because of you? Maybe they just like my dress."

Charles pulled her closer still, placing his hand on the small of her back. Several eyebrows raised at their close proximity. "You see that girl over there? The one in the blue dress? She's been trying to get her hooks into me since grade school. And the one in the short red frilly thing? She sent me letters while I was in Korea that would set your pretty head to spinning. I always left them where Pierce could read them. Drove him nuts."

"Sooooo . . . am I supposed to be jealous?"

He shrugged. "If you like."

"Do you think you need to put a little space between us? We're a little too close than most would approve, huh?"

Charles whispered in her ear. "If I didn't get my hands on you soon, I was going to do my caveman impression and haul you out of here by your hair."

"Your mother would be appalled," Jessie whispered back.

"My mother probably expects us to sleep in separate beds even after we're married."

He laughed at Jessie's expression.

"You mean, your parents . . ."

"Have their own suite of rooms, yes. Do they always sleep separately, who knows? But, I can guarantee you one thing."

"What's that?"

"If I go through all the trouble of marrying you, I'm going to have you right there when I want you," he whispered.

Jessie knew she was flushed and hoped no one could overhear their conversation. "You know, I could make it really difficult on you if I wanted," she said in a haughty voice.

Charles grinned. "I have no doubt in my mind that you could."

The orchestra ended with a flourish, and Charles led her from the ballroom floor. They spoke to several people on the way towards the cloakroom, but it didn't slow them down.

"I have this feeling we're making an exit," Jessie whispered as she nodded and smiled to someone walking by.

"Any objections?"

"Nope. My feet are killing me."

"What I have planned for the rest of the evening, you won't be on your feet."

Jessie blushed. "Should we at least tell your parents we're leaving?"

"Not a chance. Then, I'll never get to have my way with you."

Honoria winked at her from across the room, making Jessie blush even more. "Dang it, you can't be saying things like that to me here! I'm trying to make a good first impression, and you're going to make me trip over my own two feet."

Charles helped her into her coat, the tips of his fingers brushing over the bodice of her dress, making her catch her breath in anticipation. "You better behave yourself."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I said so!"

The valet brought the car around, the lightly falling snow sticking to his jacket. Charles tipped the man as he helped Jessie into the passenger side.

As he stopped at the end of the long driveway to pull into the street, Jessie grabbed his tie, pulling him towards her. "I can be just as bad, too, you know." She kissed him, their lips parting in anticipation. His foot slipped off the clutch, and the car lurched forward, stalling.

A horn blaring from behind brought them to their senses. He straightened his jacket as he restarted the car, glancing at Jessie as he pulled into traffic. "I deserved that."

They made good time back to their house. Jessie smiled to herself as he helped her from the car. _Our house. I like the sound of that_. Lights still shown in the downstairs windows, but the surrounding houses were dark, everyone tucked into bed for the night. Once they were on the shelter of the porch, he pulled her to him, fumbling in his pocket for the key. Hungrily, his lips met hers as they fell into the front door.

Strewing clothes as they went upstairs, Jessie laughed as they fell onto the king-sized bed, completely made up with sheets and quilts. "Boy, you thought of everything, didn't you?"

Charles struggled with the tiny clasps on the back of her dress. "Wishful thinking, I suppose."

Jessie turned around, her back to him. "It helps if you actually look at them while you're unbuttoning them."

She waited impatiently as he undid each of the tiny buttons, listening to him mutter under his breath about the latest fashion. He kissed the nape of her neck when he was done, pulling the dress off her shoulders and letting it fall in a graceful heap on the floor.

"Umm, you'll ruin it," Jessie said a little dreamily.

"I'll buy you a new one." Charles pulled pins from her hair until the scented curls fell about her shoulders.

Jessie turned around and pressed herself against him, eagerly meeting her mouth with his. He lowered her onto the bed, not wanting to let her go long enough to finish undressing them both.

The fire in the hearth had long burned to embers by the time they had exhausted themselves.

Sated, they settled underneath the sheets together. Jessie held her hand up, the ring winking in the dying firelight.

"What time is it?"

Charles reluctantly reached for his watch and flipped it open. "Two a.m."

Jessie rolled over onto her stomach. "I don't suppose we can stay here tonight?"

Charles brushed her hair off her shoulder, kissing her bare skin. "I suppose not."

"It's already late. Let's just say you ran out of gas, and we had no choice but to stop somewhere for the night."

Charles wanted nothing more than to stay. "I can't. I've got to be at the hospital at 7 in the morning. Plus, I'm your escort. It's up to me to get you home at a decent hour."

Jessie made a face and flopped back onto the pillow. "Some escort you are! You hauled me out of the party early, then had your way with me for the rest of the night. Didn't your mother raise you better than that?"

"Apparently not. But, what she doesn't know, won't hurt her."

*******************************

"J-Jessie! G-g-get up! You're g-g-going to be late!"

A little disoriented, Jessie fought her way from beneath the blankets. She studied Honoria, standing in the doorway of the guest room, her hands on her hips.

"Honoria, it's 7 a.m.! Are you trying to kill me?" She blew at a strand of hair that flopped in her face. "What in the world do I have to get up at this godforsaken hour for, anyway?"

Honoria walked over to Jessie's luggage and started throwing things out of it. "Mother arranged a b-b-breakfast for you this m-morning with the L-ladies' Auxiliary. Then, we have a g-g-garden club m-m-meeting directly afterwards." She held up a pants suit. "H-here, wear this."

Jessie struggled to sit up in the bed. "A breakfast? I don't remember hearing anything about any breakfast."

Honoria tossed the outfit at Jessie. "W-well, th-that was _before_ you w-were going to be Mrs. Charles Emerson Winchester the Third. Hurry up! We can't be late!"

Jessie groaned and flopped back on the bed, but was chastised again by her future sister-in-law. Reluctantly, she rose, took a quick shower and put on the outfit Honoria had chosen. She ran a brush through her hair, not having time to do anything with it.

After grabbing her coat, Jessie practically sprinted out the door to the waiting car, the cold air biting her face. She settled next to Honoria, teeth chattering.

"Good morning, Jessamyn. Hope you slept well."

Jessie managed a smile at Mrs. Winchester. "Yes, I did, thank you."

"I arranged this breakfast before the dance was over with last night, but I couldn't find you to tell you about it. Where did you and Charles disappear to?"

Jessie rubbed her hands together, thinking fast. "Well, he wanted to show me some of the city. It really is a lovely place, especially in winter."

Honoria elbowed Jessie. "S-s-so, you w-w-went riding around until 3 a.m.?" she whispered. Mrs. Winchester didn't seem to hear.

Jessie leaned in closer. "I distinctly remember seeing a car fly out of the driveway as we were pulling in at 3 a.m. Looked suspiciously like Daniel, if you ask me. Had a ridiculous grin on his face, too."

Honoria huffed and settled back in the seat. "C-c-can't be any m-more ridiculous than Charles. He whistled up and down the h-h-hallway the entire m-m-morning. D-drove me n-nuts!"

Jessie made it through breakfast and the meeting, actually enjoying herself once she drank a couple cups of coffee. They returned home to a late lunch.

After their plates were cleared, Honoria jumped up. "S-so, you w-want to c-c-come to the hospital with me, Jess? I promised D-Daniel I'd s-stop by today and have c-c-coffee with him."

Jessie hesitated for a moment, wondering if Charles would mind the intrusion. He took his work seriously. "Let me get my coat."

James bundled them into the town car and whisked them off to Boston Mercy. Jessie followed Honoria inside. She seemed to know many of the nurses and staff as they walked through the corridors. Jessie herself received curious stares, so she kept close to Honoria, not wanting to get lost in the large facility.

They stopped at a door with _Daniel Baker, MD_ on the nameplate. Honoria knocked before she walked in. The office, well-furnished with oak and mahogany pieces, was empty.

Honoria shrugged. "S-surgery must h-have run l-long. Happens sometimes."

"My, my, what have we here. Must be my lucky day. Two beautiful ladies, all in one little office."

Honoria rolled her eyes skyward. "R-really, Dr. McIntyre. You should know th-that idle c-compliments get you nowhere w-w-with me."

"Oh, I know that about you, Miss Winchester, but I'm not so sure about your companion here." He eyed Jessie, and she raised an eyebrow at his tone. His handsome eyes searched hers. "So, m'lady. What brings you to our humble little hospital?"

"Well," she looked at his nametag. "McIntyre, is it? I certainly didn't come here to be ogled by you."

He laughed, little lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, triggering something in her memory. Jessie studied him closer. "You look vaguely familiar."

"He probably does. H-h-he served in the s-s-same unit you did in Korea. B-before you arrived, I believe."

The pieces fell together, and Jessie put her hand over her mouth. "Good grief, you're the notorious Trapper John!"

He laughed again. "Smart, as well as beautiful! What a combination!"

Jessie tossed her head. "Don't try that on me, buddy! You're as bad as Hawkeye in the womanizing department, from what I heard."

"S-still is," Honoria added.

"I don't doubt it one bit," Jessie added.

Trapper leaned closer to her, putting his hand on the doorjamb above her head. Jessie, not one bit intimidated, crossed her arms in front of her in annoyance.

"I plead guilty. I'm a rogue . . ."

"But, a c-c-cute rogue!"

Trapper laughed at Honoria's comment. "Right, again!" He turned back towards Jessie. "I don't believe I caught your name. You are . . ."

"Jessie. But, you can call me Miss Callahan."

Taking the hint, Trapper backed off. But, only a little. "Well, Miss Callahan, what brings you to our hospital in the company of such an upstanding member of Boston society?" He winked at Honoria, who made a face.

"Excuse me. McIntyre?"

Trapper looked over his shoulder. "Why, Dr. Winchester. I was just being reminded by your lovely sister and this enchanting creature here of what a name I've made for myself."

Jessie snorted, and Honoria made gagging noises. Charles, an angry set to his jaw, leaned back on his heels. He was surprised how quickly his anger flared when he saw Trapper leaning in familiarly with Jessie.

"Just so you know, this 'enchanting creature,' as you so eloquently put it, is my future wife. So, if you don't mind, please step away."

Trapper looked at Jessie, incredulous. "He's kidding, right?"

Jessie held up her left hand, wiggling her fingers. Trapper eyed the ring. "I still don't believe it. I practically run the gossip mill around here, and I haven't heard a thing about Charles here gettin' hitched."

"Well, here's something for your gossip mill." Charles pulled Jessie to him and kissed her. Jessie was a little breathless when he pulled away and held onto his arm to steady herself.

They had drawn a few gawkers in the process. Someone whistled in amusement. Trapper's eyes danced, and he bowed slightly. "Miss Callahan, I was obviously mistaken." He punched Charles in the shoulder. "I didn't know you had it in you, pal!"

"Me, neither," Charles managed, sounding a little strangled.

Trapper made sure he was out of Charles's reach. "But, if you ever get tired of ol' Chuckles here, you know where to reach me, Miss Callahan. Ta, ta."

He strolled down the hallway, eyeing a nurse with a cart at the other end.

"R-really! Th-that man n-never stops! You OK, J-j-jess? You l-l-look a l-little peaked."

Jessie nodded, blushing at the stares of the small crowd. "I didn't know you had it in you, either, Charles."

"You know, h-h-he's certainly been m-more fun since you've c-c-come along. H-he never would have p-p-pulled a s-stunt like that b-b-before!"

Charles looked at Jessie a little sheepishly. "Sorry. That oaf just made me so angry, I had to do something."

Jessie patted his arm fondly. "I'm glad you did. I thought I was going to have to sock him to get rid of him."

Daniel hurried down the hall, eyeing the dispersing crowd. "Hey, what's going on?"

Honoria took his hand. "I'll explain l-l-later, dear."

****************************

Trapper will make several other appearances, as well as a few others that have not been brought up these entire 39 chapters! Who is it, you ask? Stick around a find out!


	40. Chapter 40

Between Johnny's upcoming wedding and her own, the next several months went by in a whirlwind of preparations. Molly wanted a wedding at her Methodist church with a reception at the Callahan estate afterwards. Since it was before Jessie's wedding, she was to be the maid of honor, while Andrea was to be the matron of honor.

Mattie almost pitched a fit when Jessie declared she wanted to be married in Boston. But, she pursued her lips and kept her comments to herself. Jessie knew the older woman was just disappointed that she couldn't be the center of attention when it came to planning the wedding, just like she was with Andrea and Johnny.

Jessie did most of the planning over the phone. Her father paled each time he opened the phone bill, but quietly paid it, praying all the wedding nonsense would be over soon. He was up to his armpits in chiffon and satin, so he spent most of his time in the barn with the horses, claiming the skittish thoroughbreds were easier to manage than the ladies in his house.

Charles could not manage much time off from the hospital, so visits were few and far between. They contributed to the ever increasing long distance bill. Not only did Jessie need to plan their wedding, she also needed to furnish their new home. She relegated many of the wedding plans to her future mother-and sister-in-law, but she was determined to decorate herself. Charles allowed her to do whatever she pleased.

Not that he had much of a choice.

Before Jessie realized it, it was the day before Molly and Johnny's wedding, three weeks before her own. She and a very-pregnant Andrea were running around behind Andrea's two boys, trying to get them ready for the rehearsal and dinner at the church.

Jessie caught David and stuffed his little arms into his jacket. "Honestly, Andrea, if you don't have a girl this time, I'm going to go beserk." David shrieked a bit over wearing the dreaded dinner jacket, but was shushed by his mother.

"If I do have a girl, she'll probably end up like you." She stood up, her hands on her back. "Serve me right, I suppose."

Jessie wiped David's nose with a napkin as he squirmed. "Oh, come on, Andrea. I didn't turn out so badly. I'm actually going to live in Boston, remember?"

Andrea took both of children's hands. "It just seems like yesterday you were running around this house ready to go to boot camp, of all places."

Jessie had to smile. "Yeah. And you were primly waiting for suitable gentlemen callers."

Andrea hugged Jessie. "I'm going to miss you. The boys will, too."

Jessie returned to embrace, feeling her eyes well . "But, you can visit. Just think of all the culture the boys will get!"

Andrea rolled her eyes and tugged the children along. "I don't think culture is ready for these two. Hey, I'll meet you downstairs in a minute. Don't be too late, or Mattie will have our hides. Not to mention Molly!"

Jessie watched her sister maneuver down the stairs with two little boys in tow, her large belly leading the way. Chuckling, she sprinted to her room to change clothes. Mattie bellowed up the stairway at her before she could button her slacks.

"Miss Jessie, you have a visitor!"

Jessie huffed a strand of hair out of her face as she applied lip stick. Probably another wedding gift. They had starting arriving as soon as the invitations were mailed. She had no clue how she was going to ship all the gifts to Boston, and where she would put them all, especially since Honoria said they had just as many at their house.

"_Miss Jessamyn_!"

"Coming, Mattie, coming!"

She tripped into her sandals and grabbed her purse before flying out the door. Mattie was at the bottom of the stairs, hands on hips, dressed in her Sunday best for the rehearsal, declaring if she was going to be in a church - even for a rehearsal - she would not be caught underdressed. "You didn't tell me about any overnight guests!"

Jessie galloped down the stairs. "Overnight guests? What are you talking about? I'm not expecting . . . holy shit." She finished in a whisper.

"Jessamyn Rose, don't you use that sort of language in your Daddy's house! Your Mama, bless her soul, would snatch you bald-headed!"

Jessie ignored her. She eased down another step. "Radar?"

He stood in the foyer, a shy little girl holding onto one hand. A pretty brunette stood behind him, holding a baby.

When he caught sight of Jessie running down the stairs, he felt his heart skip a beat. Remembering where he was and who was with him, he cleared his throat. "It's just Walter now. But, yeah, it's me."

Jessie stared at him wide-eyed. "What in the world . . . "

Mattie thumped her on the back. "Miss Jessie, that's no way to great a guest. Here, let me let Arthur get your things."

"Oh, no, we were just driving through on our way to Florida and thought we'd stop by. Mary Anne and I had something for you. For your wedding. It's not much, but . . ." He glanced around at the wedding trappings scattered about the house. "Looks like it's a bad time, though."

Mattie thumped Jessie on the back again, making her jump. Her mind was running a million miles a minute. "No, no, that's . . .it's alright."

A horn honked impatiently outside. Mattie ambled towards the door. "OK, Miss Jessie, we better get goin' or Johnny'll have our hides."

"I'll be right behind you." Jessie resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Mattie's back. "Look, you remember Johnny, don't you? He's getting married tomorrow. Come to the rehearsal with us and eat. Then, you're welcome to stay the night."

_Charles is going to kill me. _

Mary Anne spoke up softly, jiggling the waking baby. "Oh, we wouldn't want to get in the way."

"Nonsense. There's enough room for everyone." She took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down. "Sorry to rush you out the door, but we better get a move on."

Jessie made introductions in the limo, her mind reeling. David insisted on riding in her lap, so she fiddled with his jacket, hoping no one noticed how nervous she was.

But, with one look at Radar, she knew he did. She closed her eyes and breathed in the boyish scent of David's hair, praying for guidance.

The rehearsal went as well as expected. Mary Anne was even chosen to play the bride, Mattie declaring it was bad luck for the bride to rehearse. Radar's wife went along with it in good humor.

Throughout the rehearsal and dinner, Jessie tried to keep from nervously biting her nails. She was surprised at the emotions that surfaced by just seeing him again. As she was raised, however, she was the gracious hostess, even holding the baby while Radar and Mary Anne danced. The little girl, Elizabeth, was racing along with her nephews and Meggy. _She's the one that's really his niece, the one that. . ."_

Guiltily, Jessie looked down at the baby. Henry couldn't be more than 5 months old, but he was watching her intently.

"Hey."

Jessie jumped when Radar sat down beside her. "Hey, yourself."

"You looked deep in thought."

She handed the baby back to his father. "Just thinking that Henry looks like he can read my mind. Just like his dad. Although I distinctly remember his dad telling me he couldn't."

Radar smiled. He remembered. "Seems like a long time ago, doesn't it?"

"It _was_ a long time ago."

Johnny, a little tipsy, gallantly walked up to Jessie and offered to dance. Thankful, Jessie excused herself.

They whirled around the room to the small band rented for the dinner. "I hope you know what you're doing, sis."

"What do you mean?"

He motioned towards Radar and his family. "I have a feeling Dr. Winchester won't take too kindly to this new wrinkle."

Jessie hoped her palms weren't sweating too much. "They were just driving through and wanted to drop our wedding gift off. There's nothing to it."

"Oh yeah? Then, why do you look a little green around the gills? You don't have to move your wedding date up, do you? Break out the shot gun?"

Jessie punched her brother on the shoulder as they danced. "No, it just . . . surprised me. That's all. We haven't even spoken since . . . since . . . well, you know!"

"When's Charles arriving?"

"He's meeting us at the church tomorrow morning. He could only get a couple days off from the hospital. And Johnny?"

"Yes?"

"Mind your own damn business."

He only grinned in response.

********************************

Jessie flopped onto the sofa, rubbing her sore feet, staring into the empty fireplace, exhausted. She had talked to Charles earlier, but had chickened out and not told him about Radar. She had hoped they would be long gone by the time Charles arrived, but Molly insisted they stay for the wedding. She had a soft spot for anyone who served in Korea, Jessie knew, because her first husband was killed there.

_Look, I don't have anything to be ashamed of. I haven't said or done anything to make him angry_. She studied her nails, knowing she'd have to do something with them before she had to put on the lilac-colored bridesmaid dress for tomorrow. _Frankly, I think I've held up pretty well, considering._

"I think so, too."

Jessie jumped. "I thought you were asleep."

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." He flopped down on the far end of the couch from her.

"Hey, thanks for the quilt. It's really lovely."

"My mom made it. She says that every home should have at least one."

"Tell her I said thanks. It's freezing up there, so I know I'll use it."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. "Mary Anne knows. About you. And us."

Jessie's head jerked up. She wondered how long it would take to come around to this topic. "And she still wanted to stop by ?"

"I told her a long time ago, right after we were married. She ran across some letters in the attic and asked. She wasn't mad. Maybe a little sad, if anything. She recognized your name when we got the invitation."

"Wait a minute? Who sent you an invitation?" She blushed when she realized how that sounded. "Not that I didn't want to send you one, but . . ."

He laughed, remembering how easily she blushed. "Charles sent it."

"Charles? Are you _serious_?"

"He wrote a note in there, too." Radar reached in his back pocket and handed Jessie the invitation that she had become so familiar with.

Slowly, she took it and stared at Charles's familiar scrawl. _I hope I can make her as happy as she would have been with you. – Charles_

Quietly, she handed it back to Radar, floored. "I . . I had no idea."

"I thought it was strange, but Hawkeye said he always seemed a little insecure when it came to you."

Jessie ran her hands through her hair. "Hawkeye? What in the world does he have to do with anything?" This strange turn of events had her all muddled.

"Well, Trapper's at Boston Mercy and . . ."

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, I know. He told Hawkeye."

"I guess. But, you know something?"

Jessie tried not to pace the floor. "What's that?" she said, a little distracted.

"I always felt bad about the way we . . .I ended what . . . what we had."

Jessie looked at him closely. "You did what you had to do. What you thought was right. I couldn't fault you for that. Although . . . I wanted to."

He looked at his hands. "It didn't make it any easier. I missed you."

Jessie swallowed. "I missed you, too."

"But, I knew Charles would take care of you."

"Huh? We never did . . . had anything like that." She blushed. "Well, at least not while you were there."

He looked at her, searching her eyes. "I figured it out before I left. It was after . . . after you were shot. He spent more time with you than I did, I think." Radar nudged the rug with the toe of his shoe. "But, I think I really started to figure it out even before that, but I just didn't want to see it. You know, after he injected that kid with what he thought was morphine and almost killed him?"

Jessie looked at him quizzically, trying to remember.

"Well, I saw the two of you. Talking outside. The way he looked after you when you turned away. And, the way you touched him. I think . . . I think you felt something then, but didn't know what it was."

Still struggling to remember, she shrugged. "Compassion, I suppose. He always seemed to be fighting a war within his own mind, let alone what we had to fight physically."

"Yeah, I heard about what happened when you two were MIA."

"How?"

"Klinger."

"Oh."

"I also heard 'bout the fights."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "He can be so damn stubborn sometimes."

Radar grinned. "You aren't exactly easy to deal with, either, you know."

Jessie grinned back. "True."

He stifled a yawn.

"Look, you better get to bed. Mary Anne will wonder where you went."

He took her hand, studying her ring. It was much, much grander than the one in the truck in his attic. He still couldn't manage to part with it. "She can trust me. Just like Charles can trust you. G'night, Jess."

She smiled at him fondly. "I know. G'night."


	41. Chapter 41

The song is "I Need You" by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw. Nope, I don't own it either.

**********************************

The entire house hit the ground running early the next morning. Between getting children ready and dressed herself, Jessie barely had time to breathe. When they all rushed to the waiting limos, they still had last minute hair and make-up to touch up.

They all piled out at the church, children in tow, ready for the day. The photographer kept them busy until it was time for guests to arrive.

Radar and Mary Anne were a big help. Mary Anne helped with the food and the bridesmaids while Radar helped with last minute set-ups of candelabras and statuary. Jessie found that Mary Anne was shy, but had a wonderful sense of humor once she opened up.

It was a little weird to actually like the girl.

Jessie finally had a minute to herself when the chattering bridesmaids and bride were continuing with pictures. She quickly studied herself in the mirror, deciding she needed more blush. Fumbling in the bag she had brought full of make-up and extra hose, she yelped when someone grabbed her waist from behind.

Charles laughed, holding her against him. "Gotcha."

"Charles! How long have you been here?"

"Flight was delayed. I really need to look at buying my own jet."

Jessie kissed his cheek, glad to see him. "Well, in two weeks, you won't be needing to fly out here all the time."

"God, I've missed you."

Jessie giggled. "I've missed you, too. Now, you better back off before I have to re-apply all my make-up."

"And maybe your dress."

Jessie swatted at him playfully.

"Hey, Jess? Does Molly want to use these . . . Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know . . ."

Charles stared.

"Oh, um, hi, Maj. . . I mean Charles." Radar fumbled with the candlesticks in his hands. "I'll just go ask Johnny. Bye." He darted out the door.

Charles held her at arm's length. "How long . . . what . . . how . . ."

Jessie opened her mouth to reply, but heard the organ begin. She cursed under her breath. "Listen, we'll talk about this later."

"You're damn straight we'll talk about it later."

Jessie was whisked away by the bridesmaids before she could reply, a sinking feeling in her chest.

Throughout the ceremony, she tried to focus her attention on her smiling brother and new sister-in-law, telling herself this was the happiest day in her brother's life, and she needed to remember that. However, every time she glanced at Charles in the audience, he looked angrier each time, color high on his cheeks, his blue eyes flashing.

She was grateful when the ceremony was over, but found herself dragged away to take even more pictures. Charles was no where to be found in the darkened church when they were finally dismissed, and the bridal party was whisked back to her father's house for the reception. Jessie gnawed her bottom lip in frustration during the entire short trip.

A large tent had been set up on the front lawn, and the band from the previous night was warming up. Uniformed waiters and waitresses walked around sedately with platters of food, offering them to the smiling, chattering guests. Jessie spotted Elizabeth galloping around back with Meggy, so she knew Radar was still there.

Charles was sitting alone at a table near the back, a surly expression on his face. The longer he was left to wonder about Radar's presence, the angrier he became. He swiped another glass of champagne off a platter as he waited for Jessie to find him.

She worked her way through the crowd, greeting old friends and family. By the time she found Charles, he had four empty glasses in front of him.

"Took you long enough."

"Don't start with me," Jessie whispered leaning in so no one could hear. "Look, let's go outside."

Wordlessly, Charles stood up and led Jessie away from the tent, his hand on her back, mostly to steady himself. They walked across the darkened lawn towards the house.

When they were safely ensconced behind the wisteria vines on the back porch, Jessie turned to face him. "None of this is what you think."

"How could you ever imagine what I'm thinking? I demand to know why your former . . . former lover is here!"

Jessie immediately became defensive. "Look, he showed up yesterday _with his wife and children_ to give me our wedding gift! Molly insisted they stay for her wedding, and they did."

"Did they stay here?"

Jessie crossed her arms, annoyed. "Of course they stayed here! Where were they supposed to sleep? The barn?"

Charles cursed, running his hand over his face. "I can't believe this is happening!"

Jessie ground her teeth. "_Nothing_ is happening! We've had a nice visit, and now they're going on their way to Florida for a well-deserved vacation."

Charles grasped her by her shoulders. "And, you're telling me you didn't . . . feel anything?"

Jessie's gaze faltered.

He let her go, dismayed.

"Well, of course I felt something, Charles. He was an important part of my life! But not anymore!"

"Just how am I supposed to know that's true? What if he shows up later, minus the wife? How am I supposed to know you won't follow him merrily back to Iowa?"

Jessie stepped backwards, bumping into the swing. It creaked on its chain. She felt hot tears sting her eyes and blinked to keep them from falling. "You know, he told me Hawkeye thinks you're insecure about us . . ."

"Insecure? That's preposterous! And what are you doing discussing this with Pierce, of all people?" His shoulders shook with anger as he tried not to notice she was fighting tears. He felt the old emotions roll back, the ones that told him that this woman could never love him like she loved O'Reilly.

"I _didn't_! But, Radar _did_! He showed me the invitation! If you dislike him so much, why did you send it?" Jessie yelled, louder than she intended. She covered her mouth with her hand.

"I shouldn't have," he growled, pacing along the porch, Jessie watching with a pained expression. "Maybe it's good this happened. Maybe it's for the best."

"What . . .what are you talking about?"

Charles refused to look at her. He stopped pacing abruptly and rushed down the porch steps.

"Where are you going?"

He waved his hand impatiently behind him, not answering.

Jessie watched him go. "Fine! Just go! Maybe it _is_ for the best!" she yelled, not caring who heard. She gripped the porch railing so hard her knuckles turned white as she watched him climb into one of her father's cars. He slammed it into gear, flying out of the yard in a cloud of dust. Jessie could hear the motor race when he hit the main road.

_I can't believe this is happening either_.

"Um, Jess?"

"What?" Jessie snapped, fighting tears. It was her brother-in-law Hank. "Jess, Andrea's looking for you. It's time for you to go on."

Jessie nodded, not turning around. She wiped at the tears falling down her face. "Sure, sure, I'll be there in a minute."

"Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Hank, really." She turned around and smiled, glad it was almost dark. "I'll be right there."

The three siblings had grown up singing. Andrea usually played the piano, while she and Johnny sang. Sometimes, Andrea joined in, especially on a song she liked. Molly wanted them to sing a few songs for the guests. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, especially since it could be the last time they would all be together for awhile.

_Hell, I could still be here this time next year._

_H__ow was she going to tell her father? And Mattie? What about all the guests? All the invitations had been sent. And the gifts? _Her mind reeled as she performed, but no one seemed to notice. When Johnny put up his microphone and danced with his wife as Jessie and Andrea sang, she almost gave in to the tears that threatened. But she didn't. And still, no one noticed.

Except one. He watched her go. With encouragement from his wife, he followed.

Jessie managed to slip away, grateful for the humid darkness. The glowing tent full of happy guests slipped behind her as she walked across the manicured lawn, her dress rustling in the grass. She made her way to the dog runs, a concrete haven for the hunting dogs that her father always raised. The dogs had the best of care, and in turn, they earned the Callahans many awards for breeding and showmanship.

Jessie made her way to the puppy pens where a new litter wrestled among themselves to get to her. She sat down on a crate and picked one squirming pup up, letting him lick her face enthusiastically. With her other hand, she rubbed the ears of the mother. The other puppies clambered over themselves at her feet, one even tugging on the hem of her dress.

Radar picked the puppy up, pulling her hem out of his teeth. He held it against his chest and rubbed his ears. "Smart little fellow, isn't he?"

"Dad wouldn't have it any other way."

"Mary Anne saw Charles leave. She said he didn't look happy."

Jessie buried her face in the clean fur. "No, he wasn't."

"It's me, isn't it?"

She set the small bundle of energy down and picked up another. "No, it's him." Jessie sat the puppy down, afraid she would hurt him in her anger. "He . . . he doesn't _trust_ me!"

Radar stuck his hands in his pockets. "He thinks we . . ."

Shestood up and threw up her hands. "Yes! With your wife and children here! He asked me if I felt anything when I saw you, and I . . ."

"Didn't answer him like he wanted you to."

"Right!" Jessie didn't realize she found herself falling right back into the pattern of him finishing her sentences. "You were an important part of my life. Sure, I felt something! But, that was a long time ago. It's not like he hadn't been a saint in _that_ department. Every time he hears anything French, he gets this dreamy expression on his face."

"Yeah, I heard about that, too."

Jessie huffed. Her ring caught the light from the faraway tent and sparkled. Immediately, her eyes filled. She swiped at them angrily.

"Where is he?"

"I – I don't know. He left in one of my father's cars. I guess . . ." She swallowed hard, sliding the ring off her finger.

"Now, wait a minute. Did he say he wasn't going to marry you?"

"He might as well have."

He took her hand and slipped the ring back on. "Look, he'll be back. He'd be crazy not to."

"But, he called me a _liar_! On my own backporch! And in case you haven't noticed, he's gone!"

He touched her shoulder. "You'll probably have worse arguments than this after you're married. He loves you, Jess."

"If we get that far. And if he does love me, he has a funny way of showing it." She looked at her watch. "Good grief, you've got to go! Didn't you say your cousin was expecting you tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah, I came to find you to tell you good-bye. And good luck."

Jessie reached out and hugged him. For a moment, Radar closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair as he held her. "He'll be back."

"Thanks." She managed a brave smile. "Let me tell Mary Anne good-bye."

Side by side, they walked back to the party. Everyone said their farewells, and Jessie watched the older-model Ford disappear down the driveway.

Sighing, she made her way back to the crowded tent, the party going full-swing, determined to enjoy herself, despite the ache in her heart.

*********************************

"Did he call it off?"

"I don't think so. But, if he keeps messin' around, Jessie will."

Mary Anne squinted her eyes as an oncoming car met them, headlights bright. "She's not mad at us, is she?"

Radar smiled at his wife. "Not at us."

They came up on a gas station, lights still aglow at this time of night. Next door was a ramshackle building surrounded by vehicles, neon lights cutting through the darkness.

Radar almost slammed on brakes in the middle of the highway when he saw the shiny Lincoln parked out front, out of place among the old dusty pick-ups. He made a sudden left into the parking lot of the gas station. "You and Elizabeth go inside and get something to drink. I'll be right back."

Mary Anne noticed the car, too. She smiled fondly at Radar before she went into the store with the children.

Radar waited until they were inside, then made his way over to the tired old building.

******************************

_. . .I need you. Like a needle needs a vein. Like my Uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs the rain . . ._

Charles took another swig of beer, the only alcohol offered in this lovely piece of Texas. Since he was obviously out of place, he didn't even ask what they served. Just ordered a beer. The bartender, oblivious to the stares from the other patrons at the well-dressed man in the three-piece suit, didn't even meet his eye as he set the bottle in front of him.

As he drank, Charles tried to ignore the words wailing from the jukebox, but they kept creeping into his mind.

_. . . I need you, like a lighthouse on a coast. Like the Father and the Son need the Holy Ghost. . ._

He slammed the empty bottle down on the counter. He couldn't believe he had said those things. He really didn't think she had done anything wrong. But, his feelings of inadequacy had momentarily blinded his judgment. And, of course, he lacked the ability to communicate his emotions correctly. Aggravated at himself, he loosened his tie, tossing it across the bar.

_. . . I want to wrap the moon around us, lay beside you, skin on skin. Make love until the sun comes up, 'til the sun goes down again . . ._

He pulled a $100 bill out of his pocket and handed it to the bartender. "For God sakes, unplug that damn thing!"

The bartender snatched the money up, immediately walking from behind the counter and pulling the plug. Most of those in attendance only looked up in mild interest, then continued staring into their drinks.

Charles felt someone at his elbow. He glanced in the mirror behind the bar then averted his eyes.

"What's your problem, Charles?"

Charles took another swig of beer, trying not to make a face at the bitter taste. "At present, it appears to be you."

"She loves you."

Charles slammed his bottle down. "Look, I'll always be second choice to you! She would have married you if it wasn't for the whole banker's daughter episode!"

"Well, she didn't. And, I wouldn't change the way things turned out for nothing. I have a wife I love and two wonderful children. Jessie never belonged with me or in my world or anything like that. She knows that, and I know that." He pointed at Charles. "It looks like you're the only one that doesn't know that."

Charles tried to ignore him, hoping he'd go away and leave him to drinking himself into a stupor. Then, he wouldn't have to think about living a life without her.

Radar sighed. "You remember when Jessie first arrived in camp, and she was teaching those little Korean girls how to twirl the baton?"

Charles thought, then nodded.

Radar continued. "Remember then one that died on your table?"

Charles closed his eyes, remembering the desperation on Jessie's face.

"After it was over, I asked Jessie why you didn't demand she be demoted after she ran out on you in surgery. And you know what she said? She said, 'Charles isn't such a bad guy. He just forgets sometimes that he's human, along with the rest of us.' You make mistakes. She'll forgive you for thinking whatever it is you were thinking back there, just like you forgave her for running out on her in surgery and for coming back to you on the side of the road and helping you face the Chinese."

"God, she made me so mad when she did that! I told her to go without me!"

Radar smiled. "Go back to her, Charles. She wants to marry you."

Charles glanced over at Radar. "But, she still cares about you."

Radar shook his head, exasperated. "We helped each other through rough times back in Korea. But, that's not something to base an entire lifetime relationship on. It's something to look back fondly on when we're all old and grey, but that's all there is. You can't tell me you haven't had your share of those types of relationships?"

Charles shrugged.

Radar's shoulders fell. "Look, I've gotta go. Mary Anne and the kids will be wondering about me." He offered his hand, surprised when Charles shook it. "Look, from what I remember, she hated Boston. She must love you if she's willing to spend the rest of her life there. But, as long as she has you, she'd probably live in a cardboard box."

Charles watched him go, then settled back against the bar. The bartender wiped his way down to him. "Want another?"

Charles hesitated, then shook his head. "How much do I owe you?"

The bartender shrugged. "Don't worry about it. After the night it appears you had, you could use the break."

***********************************

Jessie rocked Daniel in the nursery, humming as music from the party wafted through the open window. Hank, Jr. was already asleep, as well as Meggy. Mattie was going to keep her while Molly and Johnny went on their honeymoon.

_Honeymoon_.

Neither she nor Charles wanted to leave the country after Korea. They settled on the Rockies. Charles promised he would take care of it.

_Something else to cancel, I suppose_.

Daniel sighed in his sleep, and Jessie stroked his back, fighting tears. At first she was shocked, then angry. But, as the night wore on, she found herself wondering where Charles was. Was he still angry? Was he lonely? Had he ever really loved her, if he could walk out on her like that?

**********************************

Charles leaned in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his rumpled pants, watching her. Eloquent words escaped him as he watched her rock her nephew slowly, absently rubbing David's back as she hummed. The child was curled up in her lap, his head tilted at an impossible angle as he slept. It was a peaceful scene, until she shifted. Charles could see the sheen of tears on her cheeks.

_Winchester, you idiot. You caused that._

Quietly, he walked into the room and took the sleeping child from her.

Relief flooded through her that he was OK, and she felt her tears fall faster as she watched him lay David next to his brother on the bed they shared. She turned away, not wanting to wake the children. Charles followed her and softly shut the door behind them.

They faced each other in the dark hallway, the sounds of merriment drifting about them through the open windows. Tenderly, he brushed away the tears that trickled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Jessamyn," he whispered simply.

Jessie wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she cried.

****************************

The last of the guests had finally gone home, and the newlyweds were on their way to Greece. Mattie had checked on the children, who were safely tucked away. Hank had told her, although reluctantly, about the scene on the back porch, and Mattie wondered where Charles and Jessie were. She hadn't seen Jessie since she volunteered to put the children to bed. Charles hadn't been seen since the reception began.

Wearily, Mattie checked Jessie's bedroom. It was empty, clothes still thrown about from their hasty morning preparation.

Neither were they in Charles's guest room. His luggage was missing.

Mattie sighed hugely as her husband followed her into the hall. "I think you might have to rescue Mr. Callahan's car. And, we've got to find Miss Jessie. We're goin' have a wedding to cancel tomorrow."

Arthur shook his head. "Follow me, hon. I want to show you something."

The crept downstairs, Mattie curiously wondering what was going on.

Arthur put his finger to his lips, then opened the parlor door slowly. Mattie peered inside.

Charles was sitting with his back in the corner of the couch, one leg stretched out in front of him. Jessie, her legs tucked underneath herself, was snuggled against him, her head lying on his chest. He had his cheek leaned on the top of her head. Both of them were still wearing their clothes from the wedding. And they were both sound asleep.

Arthur smiled at his wife as he quietly shut the door. "Already made up, haven't they?"

Mattie couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank goodness! I didn't want to mail all these gifts back to where they came from!"


	42. Chapter 42

For the record, my dad told me the same thing when I got married. And, my grandfather told my mother the same thing when she married my dad. Must be a southern father thing! Read on to find out!

*************************************

"No flowers!" Jessie moved out of Mattie's reach.

"But, chile, yo' Mama wore flowers in her hair when she married yo' Daddy. You always said you wanted flowers in yo' hair when you got married."

Jessie wanted to stomp her feet like she did when she was a child. "You should know by now that I am _not_ my mother. Plus, I'm wearing her dress. Isn't that enough?"

Mattie huffed, fluffing Jessie's already curled hair while Jessie made a face. "You sure ain't yo' mother, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I think you're going to miss bossing me around, so you're trying to get in a few last guilt trips."

Mattie pursed her lips. "Don't sass me! You're still my baby, and I can still throw you over my knee if I like."

"But, you wouldn't do that."

"Oh, and just how do you know?"

"You'll ruin my mother's dress." Jessie smiled at Mattie in the mirror. Seeing the tears in the older woman's eyes, she jumped up, trying not to trip over the miles-long train. "Oh, Mattie, don't cry! I don't think I could stand it!" She threw her arms around her surrogate mother.

"Honey, I'm not sad. Well, maybe just a little bit." She held Jessie at arm's length. "When I see you all dolled up with yo' make up and yo' Mama's dress, I still see my little girl with mud up to her ears because she wanted to see why the hogs liked it so much."

"I remember that. You scrubbed me for two hours, then sent me straight to bed. I couldn't go back to the barn for a month."

Mattie sniffed. "Miss Andrea was always so easy to deal with, and Mr. Johnny was yo' Daddy's son through and through, but you always scared me. I never knew what you were goin' to get into next."

"You still don't, if I'm correct."

Mattie patted Jessie's cheek. "Oh, child, you turned into a mighty fine young lady, if I say so myself."

"Thanks to you."

"Oh, poo! You'd have turned out just fine without this old lady."

Jessie hugged Mattie again, fighting her own tears. "Thank you, Mattie, for everything."

"Honey, now you're goin' to ruin _my_ dress."

Arthur stuck his head in the door. Jessie could hear the music faintly through the closed double doors, the swish of bridesmaid's dresses and Honoria's giggling almost drowning it out. "Time to go, Mat. Let's not keep these muckity-mucks waitin'."

"Arthur!"

He just shrugged, looking a little out-of-place in his formal attire. "You know what I mean. I just can't wait to get back home and get some good ol' Texas dirt back under my fingernails."

Jessie gathering her skirts and met him at the door, pecking him on the cheek. "I'll miss you, too, Arthur."

Looking a little flustered, he gathered his wife up and left. Jessie stuck her head out the door to speak to her sister.

"Get back in there, Jessie Callahan! He'll see you! It's bad luck!"

"Good Lord, Molly! That's a bunch of hog wash, and you know it!"

"You get back in there now!" Molly ushered her sister-in-law back into the dressing room, slamming the door behind her. Jessie huffed to herself as strains of Vivaldi filled the air. She knew that one-by-one the attendants were walking down the aisle, led by her nephews and Meggy.

Jessie glanced at herself one final time in the mirror. Surprisingly, she wasn't as nervous as she thought she would be. Not that she had time to be. Her family had arrived in Boston a week before the wedding and had attended party after party in their honor, sometimes two or three a day. Charles attended where he could, but often, he was caught up in some crises or another at the hospital.

Honestly, it didn't bother her that much. She knew how it would be going into this marriage.

Her father stuck his head in the door. "It's almost time." He tried not to choke up seeing his youngest daughter in his late wife's dress, pasting a smile on his face.

Jessie stood still as he adjusted the train behind her, clutching her bouquet in sweaty palms. When it was to his liking, he took her arm, waiting on the double doors to reopen.

"You know, Jessamyn, you don't have to do this. We can go out this back door right now, and it will be OK."

Jessie was ready for this speech. He gave the same one to Andrea. "I know what I'm doing, Daddy. I really want to marry him."

He smiled wistfully, patting her arm. "I know you do, sweetheart. I just want you to be sure."

"I'm sure."

"Good."

The first few notes of the wedding march, along with the shuffling of rising guests, silenced them as the doors were opened.

**********************************************

"I distinctly remember him _not_ being on the guest list. Did you invite him?"

Jessie sipped on a glass of champagne, watching Hawkeye and Trapper terrorize their single female guests. And, a few who weren't single. "No, I didn't. I honestly didn't think he would come, anyway. The two of you weren't exactly best of friends."

He watched Hawkeye dip one of Jessie's giggling cousins and tried not to smile. "We had our moments. But, good Lord, with them both here, it's like having double the insanity!"

"I suppose Dr. McIntyre could bring a guest, so he chose Pierce. Why did you invite Trapper, anyway?"

Charles rolled his eyes, draping his arm over the back of Jessie's chair. "He conned me into using an invitation as a bet during a poker game. Slow night."

"You're kidding!"

"I'm afraid not."

Laughter filled the air. "I suppose he had it in mind to invite Hawkeye all along."

"Appears to be the case, doesn't it? The sneak."

"I say, Miss Callahan, or should I say, Mrs. Winchester, you sure look lovely this evening." Hawkeye plopped down next to her, helping himself to the remainder of her drink.

"I should. I'm the bride, remember? Oh, and stay away from my cousin. She's only 15."

"Ah! Fifteen! What an age!"

Jessie couldn't help but laugh at his leer. "You're too much!"

"That's not what I was told by half the nursing staff at Crabapple Cove General."

"Really, Pierce." Charles was trying hard not to laugh aloud, not wanting to encourage him.

"I'm glad you invited yourself to our wedding, Hawkeye!" Jessie wiped her eyes on a napkin. "It wouldn't have been the same."

"Ah, but the evening is still young. There're more surprises in store." With that, Hawkeye rose, making his way to the dance floor.

"Ah . . . Pierce?" A million of Hawkeye's pranks floated through Charles's mind, and he cringed to think which one was next.

Jessie stopped him, a little worried herself. "Just let him do whatever it is he is going to do and get it over with."

Hawkeye put both his fingers in his mouth and whistled, getting everyone's attention immediately.

Charles covered his eyes. "I can't watch."

Hawkeye bowed towards the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen. My name is Benjamin Franklin Pierce, and I have been asked by the groom to welcome you to this lovely reception."

Jessie looked at Charles.

"I did not – repeat, _not_ – ask him to do anything, let alone make a fool of himself in front of half of Boston!" Charles hissed.

Jessie shushed him, taking his hand. Wearily, Charles settled back in the chair, resigned to his humiliation.

"Now, I have not known this lovely couple as long as many of you. And by lovely, you know I mean Jessie." The crowd laughed, and Hawkeye waited for them to quiet.

"However, due to the circumstances, I came to know both of them quite personally. For instance, did you know that Chuckles here snores like a commoner when his allergies act up?"

Honoria spoke up. "You got that right!" The guests laughed.

"I'm going to kill him," Charles mumbled.

"Or, that Jessie knows the words to all the bar songs in Texas? Puts on a pretty good show, too. _If_ you know what I mean."

"Oh, good grief," Jessie muttered.

"But, that's not all. For instance, there's more courage in Jessie's pinkie finger than an entire platoon of Marines. And Charles," Hawkeye laughed. "Well, Charles can be downright likable when he wants to be!"

The guests roared, and Hawkeye held up his hand to quiet them. "There was a time that if you told me these two would ever marry, I would have laughed in your face! You would not believe the war of the egos! Sheesh!"

"I bet most of you didn't know that he saved her life. Yep, he sure did. If that North Korean bullet had gone further to the left or right, she wouldn't be here today, despite Charles's obvious skill as a surgeon."

"That's because I prayed for my baby everyday. That's right." Mattie's voice could be heard across the room.

Charles took her hand, and she looked at him and smiled.

"And what our Jessie lacked in surgical skills, she more than made up for in chutzpah. She managed to save Charles here with an Army-issue pistol and a ton of Southern belle hysterics."

Charles sucked in his breath. "I never told my parents about that!"

Jessie caught their glances from the table nearby, as well as curious stares from other guests. "Looks like we're going to have to tell it before we get out of here."

Hawkeye continued merrily away. "Just think, so many events happened, that if they had gone differently, we would not be here today." He paused for affect. "But, I digress. As time went on, we saw something there that took both of them a long time to figure out for themselves. Through all the blood and gore and tears, these two learned to care for each other. Not the mushy kind of affection you see on the big screen, but genuine, honest-to-goodness love, a kind of love I hope to find one day." He made eyes a table of women. "Who knows, maybe I'll find it tonight!"

The guests erupted into laughter. Hawkeye held up his wine glass towards the pair. "Here's to you, Jess and Charles. May you have many years of happiness together. God knows you've earned it."

**********************

Remember, I promised to bring even more characters back, didn't I? Keep reading to find out how!


	43. Chapter 43

"Mrs. Winchester, the car's ready outside."

Jessie tried to grab her shawl while she put on her earrings, tripping over her heels in the process. "Thanks, Dorothy. Tell Ivan I'll be right down."

"Yes, ma'am. Do you need any help?"

"No, no. I'm fine."

Dorothy smiled to herself as she softly shut the door. Jessie's last-minute preparations to go anywhere were legendary in Dr. Winchester's household.

Finally settled in the plush limo, Jessie watched the now-familiar Boston scenery zip by. Charles was working late. Again. She understood. She really did. Being chief of thoracic surgery came with its own set of problems and issues. It was rare for Charles to be home on time, and when he did, he often seemed so weary that he would go straight to bed. Especially lately. There had been a shake-up in the upper echelons of Boston Mercy staff and from what Jessie could gather, the new chief was a demanding sort.

Ivan stopped in front of the church and ran around to open the door for Jessie. She climbed from the vehicle, immediately spotting her sister-in-law, husband and baby in tow.

"We d-d-didn't think you'd m-make it!" Honoria said, a little breathless. She looked behind Jessie, looking disappointed. "W-where's Charles?"

"He had some work to catch up on at the hospital. Guess it took a little longer than he thought." Jessie hated making excuses. They even sounded worn and tired to her ears. "He'll make it. He promised me he would. After all, he is the god father."

The church was filling with friends and family for the christening of Honoria and David's first child, Joseph. They married almost six months after them, and Honoria had turned up pregnant almost immediately. Joseph had been born a couple of months early, and Charles commented he was the fattest premature baby he had ever seen.

Jessie knew her sister-in-law suspected she was pregnant before the wedding, but had been sworn to secrecy.

Fidgeting with the fringe on her shawl as they waited for the ceremony to begin, Jessie tried to push away the sneaking suspicion that Charles was having difficulty with the fact that his younger sister could have children, yet they couldn't. Jessie even made sure it wasn't a problem on her part, seeing a doctor on the sly while she was visiting her family in Texas. However, he saw no problem with having as many babies as she wanted. In a way, she had hoped it was her, so she wouldn't have to see the disappointment on Charles's face each month. She even hinted on seeing a specialist, but Charles declined, claiming he was too busy at work, stress, blah, blah. Their friends and family had even begun to comment about their lack of children, as tactfully as they could, of course. Jessie chose to ignore the comments or laugh them off, but she could tell it bothered Charles, and he would often come home in a dark mood.

Not that she wasn't happy. The past year and a half had been wonderful. Jessie found that Boston wasn't as bad as she thought it would be and became deeply involved with fundraising and hosting banquets and teas. She was readily accepted into the Winchester family, although the atmosphere around their dinner table was much more refined than around her own family's table. At least until just recently, she and Charles had enjoyed each other's company immensely, escaping whenever they could for short trips and evenings alone. If no children came along, that was fine with her. However, for Charles's peace of mind, Jessie prayed for at least one.

Honoria glanced at her, looking at her watch. Jessie shrugged, shaking her head.

_Where is he? I honestly can't believe he'd miss this, as important as it is to his sister._

Miffed, Honoria whispered something to the minister, and the ceremony began.

Jessie jumped when a hand touched her back. Relieved to see Charles, but having no time to speak, all she could do was smile at him as he took his place across from her at the altar for the christening. He managed a small smile in return before returning his attention to the preacher.

_He looks tired._ Jessie tried to focus on the ceremony, but her eyes kept drifting to her husband. His tie was a little crooked, probably from dressing himself on the ride to the church. His eyes, cloudy with fatigue and worry, softened only when he caught her watching him. Hoping to reassure her, he reached over and took her hand.

It made her feel a little better.

After the ceremony, Charles pulled her aside.

"I've got to go back to the hospital."

"But . . . you've just _got_ here! And it's your day off."

"I know, I know. But, there's some sort of virus going around and half the staff is down with it. They need all the help they can get."

_What about your sister? And me?_ Jessie kept quiet, only nodding in resignation. He kissed her quickly before disappearing.

Sighing, Jessie returned to the party, once again making excuses for Charles's absence, ignoring the voice in her head that told her he wasn't telling her everything.

***********************************

Jessie had been sick for two weeks, catching the virus making its way through the city. Feeling guilty that he had brought it home with him, Charles kept his distance, most of the time sleeping on the couch in his office at the hospital or in another bedroom at home. When she wasn't feeling like crap, Jessie tried not to think about how much his absence affected her. _Just as soon as I'm better . ._ .

But, she didn't get better. If anything, she got worse, the fatigue getting her more than anything. Most days, she felt as if she couldn't make it another minute on her feet and took long naps when she could. However, when she awoke, she felt even worse.

Honoria insisted she see a doctor.

"But, I'm married to one."

"Oh, pul-eeze! He's a s-s-surgeon anyway. That's d-d-different." She jiggled Joseph on her lap when he became fussy. "You should be better by now, and you're n-not. Just go."

Jessie sighed, eyeing the toast she was trying to eat. "Maybe he could give me something to get my appetite back. I miss food!"

"Wh-what does Charles s-s-say?"

"He's never around to say anything." Jessie hadn't meant to blurt it out, but she was tired of keeping her worries to herself.

Honoria studied her sister-in-law. "L-let me take the baby b-b-back upstairs to the nursery, and I'll g-go with you."

"Oh, that's not necessary . . ."

"I want t-t-to. Besides, we h-h-haven't had much t-t-time together."

Jessie fought a wave of dizziness when she rose. "Let's not go to Mercy. I don't want Charles to know if . . . well, I just don't want him to know."

Honoria just gave her a funny look.

*********************************

Jessie sat in the doctor's plush office, eyeing the certificates on the wall. The one with 'Yale University' across it caught her eye, and she couldn't help but smile. _Charles would have a fit if he knew . . ._ Honoria had wanted to wait with her, but Jessie said that wasn't necessary, joking that if she were going to die, she wanted to tell people her own way. Truthfully, she knew Honoria was trying to make up for Charles's absence.

"Mrs. Winchester, sorry to keep you waiting."

"No, that's alright."

He sat down at his desk, studying her file. After a moment, he closed it, setting it aside and clasping his hands in front of him on the desk.

"Well?"

"All of your tests came back negative."

Jessie sighed with relief.

"Except one."

Her head snapped up, and she was surprised to see the doctor smiling.

"Congratulations, you're expecting."

Jessie stared at the doctor with her mouth open. "That's . . . impossible!" She paused. "Well, maybe not. . ." She thought back, mentally counting the days. It made sense. The nausea, fatigue and loss of appetite, everything she had contributed to the stomach virus.

"Well?"

"I think . . . I'm going to be sick." Jessie jumped up and ran from his office, making it to the restroom just in time. She threw water on her face before she returned to his office. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but smile. _Charles will be so happy . . ._

The doctor looked up when she hesitantly walked back into his office. "It'll pass in time."

"God, I hope so."

"In the meantime, get plenty of rest and eat what you can. Here's a list of obstetricians. Pick one out and make an appointment before you leave."

Dazed, Jessie returned to the front desk where Honoria was thumbing through a magazine. At Jessie's expression, she jumped up, letting the magazine fall to the floor.

"G-good grief, Jess, are y-y-you OK?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"It was b-b-bad news, wasn't it?"

Jessie took her sister-in-law's arm to steady herself as they walked to the waiting car. "I'm pregnant."

"Holy shit!"

Jessie laughed aloud, happiness bubbling up inside of her. "Exactly!"

Honoria almost jumped up and down in the parking lot. "Charles is g-going to be s-s-so angry he missed this!"

"I had no idea! None at all! After a year of keeping close tabs, I let it slide the past few weeks!"

"L-let's tell him n-n-now!"

Jessie paused. "I don't know . . ."

Honoria shoved her in the car, giving their destination to Ivan. "He n-n-needs to know about this. N-now!"

********************************************

He was going to die buried in mounds of paperwork.

Charles eyed the pile with disgust. He had been so busy dealing with the new management staff that he let his paperwork slide, another no-no to the new big-wigs. He found that whenever he turned around, it was something else to change, renew, alter or fix. It was absolutely frustrating.

Not only that, but someone from his past had reintroduced himself into his life. Sidney Freeman of all people. He had called earlier in the week to ask how things were. After Sidney hinting around for a moment, Charles had demanded the psychiatrist speak what was on his mind. Reluctantly, Freeman had told him that Col. Flagg had disappeared.

Charles struggled to place a face with the name. "So?"

"Well, the Army kept a close eye on him after they decommissioned him during Korea. He had been suggesting for awhile now that he wanted revenge. On the people who lost him his commission with the Army."

Charles could hear the page in the hallway. 'Ye Ol' Lord' Jenkins, as they called the new head of the hospital, did not like to be kept waiting. "And that concerns me how?"

"He blames you. And Pierce and Hunnicutt. Maybe McIntyre."

Charles dismissed him. "Look, if he stops by, I'll let you know. But, I've really got to go. Good-bye, _Doctor_." He liked Sidney, but disdained psychologists.

He hadn't thought about that conversation again until now. _I should call home_ -

He shook his pen, which had suddenly decided to run out of ink and cursed

"If I wanted this aggravation, I could have stayed in the Army."

"You'd have hated it."

His head snapped up. He recognized that voice, that accent. He dropped his pen on his desk. "Probably so. But, at least I could have blamed the lieutenants and corporals for any misappropriation."

Martene sauntered into his office, pulling off her gloves. She laughed merrily at his comment. "You haven't changed a bit, my dear."

Charles jumped up, meeting her halfway. "Neither have you. You're just as lovely as ever."

"Oh, stop." Martene patted her hair. "Middle age is creeping up on me."

"Then, let it creep. You really do look fabulous."

She took his hands in hers. "Charles, you were always such a flatterer."

"So I've been told." He maneuvered out of her familiar grasp, suddenly uncomfortable. "Would you like a drink?" He retreated towards a small bar he kept for guests.

"No, I won't be long. I just found myself in the states and thought I would stop by. Has it really been almost three years?" She shut the door with a click and moved closer.

He gulped. "Uh . . . yes. Three years." He searched for a way to change the subject. "What brings you to Boston?"

"My father's best friend has just taken over the hospital. He'd been after me for years to come for a visit."

"You mean, Herman Jenkins . . . you know him?" Charles stuttered

"Why, of course. He and my father are old school chums. Am I making you nervous, Charles?"

_Damn, he always loved the way she said his name with that accent of hers_. "Uh . . .no. No. It's just that . . ."

He didn't have time to formulate the words, backing up until he was against his desk. Martene closed the distance between them. "Why, Charles, I think you are afraid of me." She pressed against him.

"M-Martene? You don't understand . . ."

She kissed him.

For just a moment, he wanted her. But, only a moment.

_Jessamyn_. God, how he loved her! Knowing she was there for him did wonders for him. He didn't want to tell her why he had been working so hard for so long, didn't want her to know that he really was as much a failure as he thought he was . . .

Charles pulled back, trying to maneuver out of her grasp. He reached behind him, fumbling until he found the photo. He thrust it between them. "I'm _married_!"

Martene took the photo, taken on their wedding day. "Well, it looks like you two were more than friends after all."

He sighed in relief. "Yes. We were. Are." His eyes lit on the door, partially opened.

_Wait. _

_Didn't Martene shut it when she came in?_

_Please, don't let it be McIntyre. _

He brushed past Martene, yanking open the door to see who had been on the other end.

His heart plummeted.

He called out her name. Her devastated eyes met his before the elevator doors shut, but she didn't make a move to answer him.

Panicked, Charles ran to the elevator doors, pressing the button repeatedly to hurry it up.

_I have to explain . . ._

He took the stairs two at a time, bursting out the door on the bottom floor and racing to the elevators. Somehow, he had missed her.

Heart pounding in his chest, he ran out the main doors, finally spotting her sprinting across the parking lot, head down.

He raced to catch up with her, calling out her name. She didn't stop until she got to the car, Ivan catching her before she ran smack into it. Honoria climbed out, gathering her into her arms, giving him a quizzical glance.

Breathless, when he finally reached her, she struggled away from his sister and tried to climb into the car.

"Jess . . . I can explain!" He tried to catch his breath, but realized he didn't have a moment to collect himself when he saw the furious tears on her face. "She just . . ."

She snatched her arm out of his grip. "I don't . . . want to hear it! I _knew_ you were up to something! I can't believe . . . believe you accused me of cheating with Radar when you've been with . . . with _her_!"

Honoria narrowed her eyes at him, but he ignored her. He had to get Jessamyn to understand! "Baby, I . . ."

"Just . . . just _shut up_!" She climbed into the backseat of the car. "Are you coming, Honoria?" With one last glare at her brother, Honoria obediently climbed inside.

"Listen . . ."

"I won't listen! And don't even _think_ about coming home tonight. In fact, don't come home _ever_!" She slammed the door so hard the car rocked slightly.

Befuddled, Ivan looked from the closed door to Charles and back. "Dr. Winchester?"

She wouldn't look at him. Charles banged his fist on the roof in frustration. "Just go."

Relieved, Ivan jumped into the driver's seat and motored away, leaving Charles standing alone in the parking lot.

***********************************

"Wh-what in th-the h-h-h-hell is g-g-going on?"

Jessie fumbled in her bag for a tissue, trying to stop sobbing. When she had opened Charles's office door and seen him with Martene, she had almost lost it. But, she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of the woman he had been keeping company with.

In her mind, the long hours and distance he had put between them made so much _sense_ now.

So, she had slunk away, wanting to distance herself from what she had just seen. "Oh, Honoria, he was . . . was with . . . _her_!"

Honoria's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Martene!" Jessie sobbed. "They were . . . were . . . In his office!"

She recognized the name from her brother's letters. "I-I'll k-k-k-kill him."

Jessie just sobbed harder. "That's . . . where he's been! With . . . _her_! I'm such . . . such an idiot!"

Honoria leaned forward. "Ivan, let's go to my house."

Ivan glanced in the rearview mirror, concerned. He never thought in a million years that Dr. Winchester would cheat on his wife. "Yes, ma'am."

Honoria hugged Jessie. "L-l-look. You're g-g-going to have t-t-to calm d-down. Don't forget about th-the baby."

_The baby!_

That just made her cry even harder.

********************************

He had to get her to understand! Thankfully, Martene was no longer in his office when he stumbled back to it, so he didn't have to kick her out.

_You let her kiss you. And you enjoyed it._

Canceling all of his appointments for the day, despite threats from Ye Ol' Lord Jenkins, Charles raced from the hospital. It didn't seem important anymore. Nothing was important now but getting Jessamyn to understand. He raced home, only to learn that Mrs. Winchester had been absent all morning, first to the doctor, then to lunch with Honoria.

_The doctor?_

Charles didn't have time to think about it. Each moment he couldn't explain to her was another moment he couldn't live with himself. _How could he be so stupid?_

Charles shook his head in frustration as he impatiently waiting in traffic.

When he got to his sister's house, he was met with a chilly reception by Honoria's imposing housekeeper. "Mrs. Baker is indisposed at the moment and not accepting visitors. No, I don't know if Mrs. Winchester is with her. Yes, I will tell them you stopped by."

She shut the door in his face. He resisted the urge to pound it until someone opened up. He _knew_ she was there! Then, he would ask – no, _demand_! – to see Jessamyn and make her understand.

Instead, he settled onto the top step and put his head in his hands.

*****************

Uh-oh! Any guesses as to what will happen next? Anybody?

_Winchester, what have you done?_


	44. Chapter 44

He heard the clock tower outside the hospital chime the hour. By now, Jessamyn would be preparing for bed. When he got home, he always tried to not wake her, but she would always roll over and snuggle up against him, sighing contentedly. More often than not, they would make love. No matter how tired he was, just the sight of her was enough to rejuvenate him.

Of course, that was a normal night. This was by far a normal night. He didn't know where she was. She didn't even _care_ where he was.

Charles threw the glass back, draining the last of the gin. He always abhorred gin, but some reason, he craved it tonight. It had a mind-numbing affect, something he remembered from the still in the Swamp. And that's what he wanted. To be numb. To not _feel_ anything at all.

After composing himself on his sister's front lawn, he had returned to the hospital with the idea of getting on with the day. He couldn't go home. He couldn't stay in Honoria's front yard. He would go back to work.

However, he stood in front of the imposing structure for a moment, not wanting to go inside and deal with the ever-present problems he dealt with over the past few weeks with trying to get his position back as chief of thoracic surgery. All the worry and frustration, all the while trying to keep it from Jessie that he had been 'temporarily demoted' while Jenkins brought in new surgeons to usurp the existing ones seemed trivial.

_What did any of it matter now?_

Resigned, he had turned and walked across the street to a bar frequented by the staff at the hospital. Choosing a table in a dark corner, he tried to remain inconspicuous as he drank the evening away.

_I don't have anywhere to go_.

The idea that the house actually belonged to him never crossed his mind. He didn't want to be there with Jessamyn absent. Even if she was there, she probably wouldn't talk to him anyway. He just couldn't handle that.

_She's probably halfway to Texas by now. Her dad is going to kill me. Unless my father gets to me first._

Not that his father would care one way or the other about his or Jessamyn's feelings. No, his father would only care how it all appeared to everyone else.

The waitress brought another drink and tried to clear away some of the empty glasses. He waved her off. Indifferent, she walked away.

"Hi."

Charles struggled to focus on the figure who sat down in front of him.

"Go away."

Martene sighed. "About earlier. I didn't know . . ."

Charles waved his hand impatiently, sloshing some of his gin on the table. "What's done is done. Just let me suffer in silence."

"Talk to her."

"She won't talk to me! Hell, can you really blame her? I've been working so hard lately because of your father's _chum_ that I've avoided her. Now, she thinks that . . . thinks we've . . ." He slammed his fist on the table in frustration. "Damn it, just leave!"

"Let me talk to her . . ."

He gave her an icy glare. "Don't you think you've done enough already?"

She returned his stare. "You could have told me you were married sooner, you know."

His anger retreated, leaving him drained. "Don't you think I've thought about that already?"

She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away.

"Please. Leave," he pled.

Resigned, Martene rose. He didn't watch her go, just stared into his half-empty glass.

*************************

Jessie leaned her forehead against the cool window of the car. She squeezed her eyes shut, a headache trying to form behind her eyes.

_I'm so, so tired_.

Honoria had taken her to her house and calmed her down long enough to get her to eat something. Reluctantly, she had choked down a sandwich, but it sat like a lump in her stomach. Fighting nausea, she laid down for a moment.

She must have fallen asleep because when she awoke, it was dusk. With her emotions churning, it was hard to believe she had slept the afternoon away. Honoria had insisted she eat dinner with her and Daniel, but Jessie didn't want to be there when he got home. Seeing their happy little family would just make her feel worse, knowing that was something that was unexplainably out of her reach.

_So, what's next? Separation? Divorce?_ Bile rose in her throat, and she fought it back.

Worried, Ivan watched her in the rearview mirror as he drove the short distance home. She didn't even seem to realize they were pulling into the driveway. All she did was peer forlornly into the dark night.

Sighing, he parked the car in front of the house and exited the driver's seat. It was darker than usual, but he ignored it, opening the backdoor for Jessie. He offered her his hand, something he didn't normally do. Gratefully, she took it, glad for the assistance.

"Thank you. . ."

Her eyes widened in alarm, looking at something over his shoulder. He started to turn, but something heavy hit him in the back of the head. He thought he heard her scream before he sank to the ground, everything going dark.

*******************************

Jessie tried to scream, but her heart was beating so fast, all she could manage was a squeak. Pinned against the car, she started to climb back inside and lock the door, anything to get away from this . . . this crazy person!

She turned, but an arm grabbed her around the waist. Struggling against his grasp, she didn't notice the chloroform-coated cloth coming at her before it was too late.

************************************

It was past midnight when he stumbled from the bar to catch a cab. He had to go home eventually. Now that he was drunk enough, he thought he could handle her absence or her tears or whatever it is he would have to eventually face.

The flashing blue and red lights blurred his vision when they turned onto his street, and he shook his head slightly, thinking he was seeing things.

_What have the neighbors done now?_

The closer they got, the more he realized the dizzily flashing lights were on _his_ lawn! He jumped out of the cab before the driver came to a complete stop, almost forgetting to pay the fare.

_Maybe it's not her. Maybe it's the help or a visitor or . . ._

Jogging up the driveway, he rushed past a cluster of police officers. They grabbed him to keep him from going any further.

"Let me go!"

"No one is allowed at the crime scene but authorized personnel."

_Crime scene?_ "This is my _home_, you imbecile!" He jerked out of the officer's grasp, the flashing lights making him dizzy. Stumbling to the front door, he saw the car, still idling, the back door open. Someone was taking pictures.

His heart in his throat, he steadied himself on the car frame as he walked around, afraid of what he might find. All he saw was a piece of wood, a dark stain on it, an equally dark stain on the sidewalk nearby.

He almost slumped in relief until he realized what the stain was.

Staggering to the front porch, he managed to make it to the bushes next to the house before he threw up.

Pulling himself up using the banister, he found himself face-to-face with a man in a trench coat and a note pad.

"Dr. Winchester?"

Charles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, resisting the urge to shove the man out of his way. _Where is she?_

"Dr. Winchester, where were you between the hours of 8 and 10 this evening?"

It wasn't quite registering what the man was saying, the alcohol in his system wrecking havoc. "Excuse me?"

The man repeated his question.

"And just who the hell are you? And where is my wife?"

"Detective Holbrook, Boston PD. Now, answer the question."

"Charles!" His mother's relieved cry interrupted their conversation. She ran down the front steps, falling into his arms. "Where have you been? We were worried sick!"

"Mother." He pat her on the back absently, his mind whirling. _The blood . . ._

He pulled her to arm's length. "Where's Jessamyn? What's going on?"

His mother burst into tears, and he had to resist the urge to shake her.

"Dr. Winchester, you still haven't answered the question?"

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Detective." Sidney Freeman walked out of the house, followed by his father.

Charles was beyond caring what Sidney was doing in his house.

"What's going on? For God's sake, someone _tell_ me!"

"Come inside, Winchester. Have a seat."

"I don't _want_ to sit down! I _want_ someone to tell me why all these police officers are on my front lawn, taking pictures of my car. And just where in the hell is my wife?"

Sidney cleared his throat. "It appears she's been kidnapped."

His mind reeled. Kidnapped? He reached out to steady himself as his vision blurred. "What? The blood . . ."

Sidney took his arm. "Come inside, and we'll explain."

This time, he allowed himself to be led inside.

Still sniffing, his mother said she was going to lie down for a moment. She clasped his hand briefly before wearily ascending the stairs.

Charles sat down carefully in a chair in the foyer, his father and Sidney watching him closely. Rubbing his face with his hands, he kept trying to understand. The emergency lights outside kept making strange patterns on the wall, making him lightheaded. A deep breath helped. A little. "Start at the beginning."

"One of the maids heard the car. About 9 o'clock this evening. When no one ever entered the house, she went outside to check. It was so dark, she couldn't see."

"There's . . . there's lights."

"The wires were cut." It was the first time his father had spoken. All Charles could do was look at him, his mind not wanting to comprehend where this horrid story was going.

Sidney continued. "She found the driver lying on the ground, bleeding from the head. Jessie was no where to be found. So, she called the police." He shrugged. "That's all we know."

"That's it?" Charles stood up too fast, and his knees almost buckled. He leaned on the wall to steady himself. "No note, no clues, no nothing?"

Sidney shook his head.

Kidnapping for great sums of money was not unheard of in the upper echelons of society. Most of the time, it turned out to be someone they knew. "I . . . I don't know who . . . would do something. Something like this."

"It's Flagg. It has to be." Sidney watched him closely for a reaction.

"Flagg?" Charles asked, confused. "You mean . . ."

But, he remembered.

Flagg wanted his help in finding some dirt against Pierce and Hunnicutt, trying to blackmail him in the process. Charles made Flagg look like a fool when he hinted that the card game each week with the local mayor and his brother had in the Swamp was actually a Communist sympathizer meeting.

It's amazing how past sins come back to haunt you.

He realized Sidney was still talking. ". . . can't find Hawkeye. But, we've contacted B.J., so he's on the lookout. Someone did try to break into McIntyre's home this evening, but he chased them off. He sent his family to an undisclosed location."

_That's what I should have done when Sidney called me last week_.

Helpless. That's all he was. He could do nothing. Not a thing.

The front door flew open.

"You! You . . . you b-b-bastard!"

"Honoria! Such language!"

She ignored her father, stalking up to her brother and slapping him hard across the face. Charles stepped back, stunned, as did their father as Sidney watched calmly.

"H-h-how c-c-could you?"

"Honoria! He didn't do this! You know that! Get ahold of yourself!"

She turned her fury towards her father. "I'm t-t-talking about h-h-him spending the evening, and every evening f-for the past few w-w-weeks with . . . w-w-with that _woman_!"

"What woman, Mrs. Baker?" Sidney asked, calm as ever.

"M-Martene!"

Charles's eyes widened. "I wasn't . . ."

"Th-then where w-w-were you? David and I l-l-looked for you everywhere!" She narrowed her eyes. "It was a h-hotel, wasn't it? While your pregnant w-w-wife is being k-k-kidnapped, you're off g-g-getting your j-jolly's with _her_!" She drew back as if to hit him again.

Charles grabbed her wrist, instantly sober. "What did you say?"

"You h-h-heard me! While your w-w-wife is . . ."

"No . . ."

"I believe you said she was pregnant," Sidney intervened.

Honoria teared up, all the fight instantly leaving her. "She j-j-just f-f-found out today."

They looked to Charles for his reaction.

_This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. _The mantra kept repeating itself in his mind. He let go of Honoria's arm, sitting back down in the chair heavily and putting his head in his hands. _This is almost too much . . ._

"How far along is she?" he managed to croak.

Honoria sniffed. "S-s-seven w-weeks."

Seven weeks. _That's_ why she was so sick. Why couldn't he see it?

_Because you were too busy worrying about your job, that's why. And now, some idiot has run off with her. And you can't do anything about it._

Charles felt drained off all energy.

_This is not happening._

His father cleared his throat. "Just what is all this nonsense about you and this woman."

In a voice devoid of emotion, he told them everything.

"She showed up today and caught me off guard. I swear to you the first time I saw her was today." He looked at his sister. "You believe me. Don't you?"

She really wanted to. "Then, where h-h-have you b-b-been these p-p-past few weeks?"

"I've lost my position at the hospital. I'm trying to get it back."

Honoria burst into tears again. "Th-that's _all_? Why d-d-didn't you tell her?"

He struggled for words. "She didn't need to know. That I had failed."

"F-for God's s-s-sakes, Charles! She's your _w-w-wife_! She _l-l-loves_ you!" David tried to comfort her, but she shrugged him off. "I can't b-b-believe you! You l-l-let her b-b-believe you were w-w-with another w-w-woman just t-to save f-f-face! How _could_ y-you?"

_Is that what I did?_

_Yes. Yes, it is._

_Good Lord, what kind of husband am I?_

Miserably, Charles stood, still a little unsteady on his feet. Without speaking, he trudged through the house, ignoring concerned glances from the staff, as well as the others gathered in the foyer. When he reached his study, he quietly shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, closing his eyes, trying to compose himself.

_Is she scared? Well, of course, she's scared. If she's still alive. _He thought about the blood in this driveway and shuddered. _If he hurts her, I'll kill him with my bare hands._

_What about the baby? _

He struggled to remember from med school all the things that could go wrong this early in a pregnancy. And that was under the usual circumstances. Now that she was at the mercy of some half-crazed military lunatic, who knew what would happen.

He felt helpless, useless. This morning, he was normal man with a wife he loved, albeit a little stressed from his job situation. Now, his wife thought he had committed adultery, she was missing and just found out she was pregnant.

_Jesus_.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

_If it's that detective, I swear I'll slug him._

Stiffly, he stepped away from the door and opened it.

It was Honoria, eyes red from crying, anxiously twisting a handkerchief in her fingers. They stared at each other for a moment until he reached out his hand and drew her to him.

She started crying again. "I-I sh-should h-h-have m-made her st-stay w-w-with m-m-me!" she wailed.

Charles felt his own tears fall. "It's . . . it's not your fault. It's mine. I should have . . . been with her. I would've been if I wasn't so . . ."

"She d-d-doesn't _know_, Charles! She th-thinks you've b-b-been with . . . with h-h-her! This whole t-t-time! She's s-s-scared and alone and c-c-confused and d-d-doesn't _know_!" Honoria wailed.

"Don't you know that's all I can think about? How much I've hurt her? How much he might . . . hurt her?" He could feel a sob rise in his throat.

Unwilling to completely break down in front of his sister, he let her go and turned away. Hesitantly, he made his way to the fire place, leaning heavily with both hands on the mantel, taking deep breaths.

"I'm s-s-so sorry. For accusing y-y-you and f-f-for . . . for everything."

He stared into the flames, trying to control the anger, frustration and helplessness welling up deep inside him. _I should have been there . . ._

He didn't know how long he stood, staring at nothing at all. He didn't know if Honoria was still in the room, and honestly, he didn't really care. All he wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.

Someone placed a drink on the mantel. He didn't take it.

"I explained to the police. They've put out an all points bulletin for Flagg and an unnamed accomplice."

Charles struggled back to reality. "An accomplice?"

"He has B.J.'s daughter. I just found out a few minutes ago. He can't be working both coasts by himself."

Charles remembered blurry pictures of a cheery blonde baby. "Is he . . . he violent?"

Sidney shrugged. "We don't know. We'd like to think not."

_McIntyre and Hunnicutt_. "Pierce?"

"We can't get in touch with him. We're hoping it's by his choice and not Flagg's."

When Charles didn't reply, Sidney clamped his hand on Charles's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Charles's nails dug into the mantel. "She's _my_ responsibility. I would have been home. I could have done something." His voice rose against the emotions in his chest. He shut his eyes tightly, an image of her struggling against her captor rearing its ugly head in his mind.

He continued, this time in a calmer voice. "I thought when I left Korea, I could go on with my life and leave all of it behind. But, it haunts me still. First, the mumps I caught while in that wretched place makes me . . . unable to have children . . .

"You thought."

"Then, Martene waltzes back into my life. And now Flagg!"

Sidney remained quiet for a moment. "But what about Jessie? You never would have met her, you know."

Charles paused, considering the psychiatrist's words. He had never thought about it that way before. "But, it doesn't matter now. Some lowlife creep has taken her from me, and I can . . . I will . . ." He couldn't continue. He didn't want to even begin to think what he would do without her.

Sidney cleared his throat. "I could quote things like, 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger,' and 'when life gives you lemons make lemonade . . ."

"Please don't."

"But that's a bunch of bunk. I'm not going to tell you not to worry because that's insane. Of course you're going to worry. I'm not going to make you any promises, either, Winchester. She's in danger. She may not get out of this alive. But, all of us will do everything within our power to make sure that doesn't happen."

Charles didn't reply. What could he say? Sidney was laying bare in front of him.

"Besides, she's one plucky broad, if I remember correctly."

Charles managed a small smile, still staring into the flames. "You remember correctly."

"Hunnicutt's on his way out here."

Charles finally looked at Sidney. "Why here? How do we know Flagg's not halfway to the west coast? Or anywhere else for that matter?"

"Security caught a man with a little girl matching Erin's description getting off a plane in Boston. He got away. It's just a guess, but it's all we've got."

"Just a guess . . ." Uncontrolled anger swept through him. "Jessamyn could be halfway around the world by now, and all we have a goddamn guess!" He spotted the glass Sidney had set in front of him. Snatching it up, he flung it across the room, cognac spraying across his desk and the floor. It felt good to feel something other than helplessness.

Sidney crossed his arms, unfazed. "Hey, you take what you can get."

**************************

Can anyone spot The X-Files reference? I just realized it was there after I was proofing the thing!


	45. Chapter 45

It was night. Or at least, she thought it was. It was hard to tell.

Jessie shifted on the uncomfortable mattress, not quite awake, the effects of the chloroform making her woozy.

It was all a bad dream. It had to be!

She threw her arm across the other side of the bed, reaching for Charles.

He wasn't there.

Jessie sat straight up, heart pounding. At first, she had no clue where she was, her memory fuzzy.

_Holy crap!_

She struggled from the bed, rushing to a window. Clawing at it frantically, she tried to open it, but it was sealed. She banged on it a couple of times with her fist, but the panes of glass had been covered with plywood to avoid breakage.

Panicked, she looked around the room.

_The door!_

She ran to it, but it was locked.

_Get a grip, Jess. If someone were going to go through all the trouble to kidnap you, they wouldn't leave the damn door unlocked!_

She found another door and flung it open. A bathroom, its one window also covered with plywood. The shower had been removed, but the dingy toilet and sink were still in place. Her hands frantically searched over and under the sink, looking for a weapon, anything!

Her heart almost stopped when she heard a noise. She raced across the room and flung herself on the bed, as the door opened, hoping to feign sleep. She buried her face in the musty pillow.

"I heard you moving around. I know you're awake."

It was insane to pretend. She was breathing so hard that he had to know she was awake, anyway. Slowly, she raised her head. She couldn't make out his features in the darkened room.

"Are you going to hurt me?" She was surprised when her voice was strong.

He practically giggled. "Me? Nah! I wouldn't hurt you."

_So, I'm not going to die. Now, at least._

Her stomach rolled, but she fought it. "Who _are_ you?"

He made a tsking noise. "So many questions."

His tone made her angry. "Look, if you want money, you can have money. Just let me go!"

He stepped closer to her, his ferrety eyes gleaming. "Money, huh? I figured you were loaded. Nice house, by the way."

"You . . . you creep! You killed my driver!"

"Oh, he wasn't dead. Just stunned a little."

Jessie opened her mouth to reply, but her stomach heaved. She tripped from the bed, springs squealing and into the dirty bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

He watched her from the doorway. "No one said anything about you being sick. I don't like sick people. That's why I stopped practicing medicine."

Jessie managed to rise from the floor and tried to turn on the faucet in the moldy sink. Only a trickle of dirty water came out. She sighed and managed to throw some of it on her face. "You were a doctor?" There was no way in hell she was going to tell this crazy guy that she was pregnant, not sick.

He stuck out his chest. "I was! A damned good one, too! No matter what they told you!"

Jessie studied him closer, her mind working overtime to figure a way out of this mess. "I have no clue what you're talking about. But, I'm sure . . . you were a good doctor."

He shook his finger at her. "Oh, Fl – my partner told me you could be cagey. Compliments will get you no where with me, missy."

"Fine. What do you want? My husband will get you anything you ask for." _Maybe_.

He shrugged. "Hey, I'm not running this show. When Fl – my partner gets back, he'll let you know what's going on."

So, this guy wasn't the head honcho. Great. There were two crazy dudes wanting to kill her.

He took her by the arm and led her to back to the bed, sitting her on it. "You just stay right here. I can hear every move you make, so no monkey business."

He turned to leave the room, leaving Jessie more frustrated and confused than ever. "Oh, and so you know, I had nothing against Maj. Winchester. I didn't even know him."

_Just who in the hell is this guy?_

Jessie flopped back on the quilt, dust flying up briefly, trying to think.

_Here's what I know. I've been kidnapped by one crazy guy who has an equally crazy partner. I'm God knows where, and I don't know what will happen to me. I have no food, minimal water, which doesn't matter because every time I eat, I throw it back up._

Her hand automatically went protectively to her stomach. She made a mental note to beg some food off these guys and choke it down, no matter what.

She rolled onto her side, the springs squeaking, and wondered if anyone knew she was gone by now. If anyone had found poor Ivan lying in the front yard. One of the maids surely has sounded the alarm by now. They should have told Charles. If they could find him.

She felt tears well in her eyes, but fought them back.

_I can't wuss out now. I've got to get me and my baby out of here alive, then I'll deal with Charles later._

Very much alone, she fell into a fitful sleep.

When she awoke, there was a faint strip of light coming around the windows. Trying to remember what had happened, she tried to sit up, but felt too faint.

_Hell, I'm not going anywhere, anyway. Might as well lay here_.

The door opened, and she immediately shut her eyes, hoping to be left alone. Someone walked into the room and laid something on the bed next to her.

_It was . . . a little girl!_

Jessie was immediately awake, struggling to make out this new wrinkle. She could tell this was not the same man who had been in there earlier, but he stayed in the shadows while he watched her. She checked on the child to make sure she wasn't dead. Breathing a sigh of relief when she realized the girl was only asleep, she struggled to sit up.

"Who's this?"

"More leverage."

_Great. That's all they were. Leverage_.

"My partner told me you offered us money."

"Yeah?"

"Not interested. What I want is to take away from your husband and his associates what they took away from me."

A cold chill ran down Jessie's spine despite the stuffy air. "Who _are_ you?"

The man stepped into the light. Jessie couldn't quite place the face. She shook her head, frustrated. "I don't understand what's going on. Why don't you sit down with Charles and whoever else you're talking about and explain. . ."

He laughed, sounding more like a bark. "And miss the looks on their faces when I tell them I have their most precious possessions? I don't think so."

_If you wanted Charles's most precious position, you picked the wrong one_.

Jessie shook the thought out of her head. The little girl wiggled a little, and Jessie stroked her blonde hair. "Who's this then? And don't say more leverage!"

"You'll find out in time."

_Idiot_. She remembered her earlier promise to herself. "What about food?"

The man shrugged. "Maybe." He started for the door. "Oh, and you'll have one more addition to your little party here later today."

If Jessie had something to fling at the man with the cocky attitude, she would have.

The slamming door startled the sleeping girl. She awoke with a start, befuddled at her surroundings. Immediately, she started to cry. Jessie gathered her in her arms, making comforting noises.

_I sure know how she feels_.

"I want my mommy! And my daddy!"

Jessie rocked her back and forth. "I know, sweetie. So do I."

After the child had calmed, Jessie pulled her sticky hands away from her own dirty blouse, trying to get a better look at her. "So, honey, what's your name?"

The child studied her suspiciously, trying to associate Jessie with the man who took her from the park while she was playing.

Jessie sighed. "Look, I'm just like you. Someone took me from my home, too. My name's Jessie. What's yours?"

"Erin."

_Holy shit!_

The gears started turning_._

"What's your last name, Erin?"

She hiccupped a bit. "Hunnicutt."

_God in Heaven! What's going on here?_

"Well, Erin, you're in luck. I knew your daddy a long time ago when you were just a baby."

"Really?" She wiped her eyes.

"Really. He had a funny looking mustache like this." Jessie took a bit of Erin's hair and put it on her upper lip, making the girl giggle.

***************************

Charles's mouth tasted like he had swallowed a ball of yarn. With fear as his only companion, he hadn't slept well at all, finally falling asleep near dawn. He licked his chapped lips as he came awake, confused.

He eyed the broken glass on the floor, and the previous day came flooding back to him.

He struggled into a sitting position, groaning as he rose, his head pounding and spotted a breakfast tray sitting on the table nearby. The well-oiled machine otherwise known as the house staff apparently keeps rolling along, despite its missing mistress. His stomach growled, but he couldn't bring himself to eat.

_Is Flagg feeding her?_

He put his aching head in his hands. It wasn't any easier now than it was last night. Now that the shock had worn off, there was nothing left but heartache. This would have been bad enough if she hadn't seen him with Martene. But now . . . now, she could die thinking he had cheated on her.

_Stop it, Winchester! Just stop it right now!_

Reluctantly, he rose and staggered out the door and up the stairs. He'd feel better after a shower, getting out of these alcohol-stained clothes.

When he opened the door to their bedroom, the scent of lavender hit him square in the face.

Funny, he hadn't taken the time to notice how much this room smelt like her before . . .

The room was cleaned by the maid yesterday, but he knew Jessie would have left everything in disarray before rushing out the door.

Thoughts of a shower forgotten, he made his way to her dressing room, flipping on the light.

He touched the bottles of perfumes and make-up on her dressing table, hoping to bring back some essence of her. Opening her closet door, her scent hit him again, bringing tears to his eyes.

The first piece of clothing he spotted was her bathrobe. Gingerly, he removed it from its hook and held it under his nose, breathing deeply.

A new pain hit him. It was the same pain he felt after his brother died.

Loss.

Charles trudged from the dressing room, her robe clutched in his hands. He sank onto their king-sized bed, fingering the piece of threadbare clothing. He had bought her new robes, expensive ones, but she refused to wear them, insisting that this one was the most comfortable ever. He even tried to hide it from her, but she always dug it up from the recesses of her closet.

With tears in his eyes, he laid back onto her pillow. It also smelt like her. Clutching the robe in his arms, he fell asleep.

He couldn't sleep long.

The media began hounding them almost immediately, the tantalizing scent of a juicy story bringing them to a frenzy. He had to call the hospital, informing them passively that he was taking an indefinite leave of absence, effective immediately.

Not to mention contacting her family. Her father was on some sort of safari in Africa, but Johnny was easier to find. Charles told him everything, hoping that baring his soul would somehow relive some of the weight.

It didn't, especially after Johnny called him every name in the book and threatened everything from his manhood to his license to practice medicine.

His mother insisted on staying with him, but he eventually sent her home, her constant sniffing and moaning making him want to scream. Honoria stayed with him, not saying anything at all. Her presence was comforting.

But, she wasn't Jessamyn.

They waited all day for news.

There was none.

********************************

Jessie had been dozing, Erin asleep on her shoulder when the door opened again. The first guy entered slowly, a plate in his hands.

He sat the plate on the edge of the quilt.

"Sorry. It's all he would let me give you." He actually sounded apologetic.

_Two pieces of bread. Great. Just great_.

The glass of cloudy water didn't look too appealing, either.

"You know, if you let us go, you wouldn't have to worry about feeding us."

"Do you think I'm crazy? I'm too scared of Flagg at this point." He didn't notice he had misspoken, but Jessie had. She woke Erin and reached for the plate.

_Flagg? Korea?_

_Rriightt!_

Jessie had been on leave at the time in Seoul, but she had heard third-hand about Flagg's witch hunt for communists in camp.

At the time, it was funny.

She gave Erin one of the slices and took small bites of her own. Her mind racing, she managed to eat half of it before she gave up. Offering the remaining piece of stale bread to Erin she eyed the glass of water, sipping gingerly. It didn't taste as bad as it looked.

He watched them eat, then took the plate and glass away. "Don't want you to use them as weapons." He shut and locked the door behind them, leaving them in their stuffy prison.

Erin sniffed. "I'm still hungry."

Jessie stroked her hair. "Me, too, sweetheart. But, this'll all be over soon, and we can eat all we want."

A commotion downstairs interrupted their conversation.

"Let me go, you cretin! Put me down this instant."

It was a woman's voice. Instantly, Jessie was all ears, trying to make out the conversation.

"You promised! You said you would leave her out of it!" A man's voice.

"Shut up! This is my show, and I'll run it as I please!" Jessie heard a noise like fist on flesh, then there was silence.

Terrified as the steps drew closer, Jessie hugged Erin to her as they cowered on the bed. She could hear scuffling and yelling. The door unlocked and Flagg tossed a fighting, spitting Margaret into the room. Margaret raced for the door, but Flagg shut it and locked it before she could reach it.

She banged on it with all her might. "Let me out! You have no right!"

"Major?"

Margaret turned in a huff, her eyes wild. She studied Jessie cradling Erin in her arms, the little girl's face buried in her shirt.

"What in the hell is this?"

"That's just what I wanted to ask you."

Margaret ran her hands through her hair, trying to calm down. "What are you doing here?"

Jessie told her about Flagg wanting some sort of sick revenge on the four surgeons. "I don't know who the other fellow is. He's the one who grabbed me."

Margaret sighed. "That twerp is none other than Frank Burns."

Jessie recognized that name. "You mean . . . Ferret Face?"

"Bingo."

"Good grief. So, is that why you're here? Because of him? Flagg didn't mention getting revenge on you." Jessie had heard many stories about Margaret and Major Burns's trysts.

Margaret settled on the side of the bed, suddenly weary. "I think I'm leverage for Hawkeye."

Jessie almost laughed aloud, startling Erin. "You . . . and Pierce?"

"On again and off again. Right now, on again," Margaret mumbled.

"Well, I'll be."

Margaret studied Erin. "She's too old to be yours."

"No, she's B.J.'s. Miss Erin, I want you to meet Margaret Houlihan. She knew your daddy back when I did."

Erin peeked out at Margaret shyly. "I know you. You came to see daddy one time with the funny man."

Margaret's eyes softened at the memory. "That's right, dear, we did. I didn't think you were old enough to remember."

"I memembered."

"Hawkeye and I went out there a year or so ago when I got some time off from the hospital."

"You're still in the Army?"

"I'm a lieutenant colonel now. Much to Pierce's chagrin. That's part of the reason we're on again and off again."

"Well, I have to admit, you and Hawkeye didn't exactly seem to hit it off."

Margaret shrugged. "You and Charles weren't exactly best of friends the entire time, either."

"True." _Especially now_.

Margaret stretched, resigned to her fate. "So, what do we have to do to get something to eat around here?"

*****************************

The three captives slept huddled together on the bed. Margaret and Erin were sawing logs next to her, but Jessie couldn't sleep. Frank and Flagg had not made another appearance, but they had heard muffled sounds of an argument downstairs earlier.

Jessie stroked Erin's hair absently.

_I wonder if it's a girl. But, I think I want a boy. Charles wants a boy_.

_If he still wanted her_.

_Where did she lose him? Why didn't she realize it? _

She was tired of running through the whole scenario in her head.

She loved him unconditionally, and now she would have to pay the price.

A tear slowly trickled down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away, nor any of those that followed.


	46. Chapter 46

Charles sat at his desk and studied the painting over the fireplace. Jessie had it done for his study their first Christmas together. The emerald dress she wore accented her eyes, and his great-grandmother's diamonds graced her neck. The painter even managed to capture the look in her eyes he always loved. It was a cross between playfulness and stubbornness.

Surrounded by all the mementos of their short time together, all he could still think of was the hurt on her face the last time he saw her.

_I've got to have a chance to make it right!_

The firelight cheerily lit the room, but he didn't notice. The entire day, there was no news of their whereabouts. No sightings. No phone calls. Nothing.

It was infuriating and helpless, all at the same time.

B.J. hadn't arrived yet, delayed somewhere in Chicago. Sidney had just told him that Margaret had been abducted from the hospital in DC where she was stationed, and Charles had tried to work out in his mind what was going on, what this idiot wanted with them, why he wanted to ruin all their lives. He couldn't quite fathom inflicting pain on others for ones own enjoyment.

_But, you've hurt her yourself._

He leaned back in the leather chair, exhausted. This waiting was excruciatingly painful, more so than anything he had gone through before, even worse than the mind-numbing fear that was his constant companion in Korea.

He couldn't pray. Often scoffing at those who found comfort in something as trivial as religion, he wished he had that comfort now. Anything to chase away his terror. Anything to keep her safe and bring her home to him.

**********************************

Jessie wrapped herself around the dirty toilet, trying not to wake Margaret and Erin. She had nothing left but dry heaves, but it kept on and on. It was never this bad when she was at home. The worry was taking its toll. Jessie lay back against the wall, her knees drawn to her chin.

"The first trimester can be rough." Margaret sat down beside her on the floor. "Has it been this bad the whole time?"

Jessie shook her head. "No. Not like this. I think it's all . . . this."

"It was . . . rough for me, too."

Jessie stared at Margaret. She was startled to see tears in the normally stalwart woman's eyes.

Margaret wiped at them impatiently. "He or she would have been almost two years old by now."

"Miscarriage."

"No. Abortion."

Jessie sucked in a breath. "The father?"

"Hawkeye. When he found out what I had done, he went beserk. He didn't understand that the Army was all I had. All I was good at. Having a child was unchartered territory, something I didn't think I could do."

"But, he forgave you? Didn't he?"

Margaret half-heartedly shrugged. "In a way. We started seeing each other again recently. But, the unspoken accusations are still there. If I had known how much a child meant to him, I might not have done it." She shook off her tears, instantly composing herself. "But, that's all water under the bridge, now. So, I bet Charles is thrilled."

"Charles doesn't know."

"What? Why?"

Jessie found herself spilling out the entire story.

"That just doesn't make any sense. Are you sure you weren't mistaken?"

Jessie rubbed her eyes and shrugged.

"Maybe that's it. Maybe she went after him, and he couldn't push her away."

Jessie studied the head nurse she had frequently been intimidated by. "Why're you taking up for him?"

"He just . . . oh, I don't know! That seems so unlike him. I saw it between the two of you way back while we were in Korea. I was always . . .jealous, I guess."

"Jealous?"

"He loves you so much, and I guess I wanted that sort of devotion. Lord knows I didn't get it from Donald!"

"What about Hawkeye?"

"Oh, he's just Hawkeye. It's always so hard to tell with him. Who knows? He might even be glad that Flagg's got me!"

"Don't say that! He'll come for you! We'll all get out of here."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I . . . I try to."

"I guess that's all we can do, isn't it?" She stood and offered Jessie her hand to help her from the floor.

****************************

They were all listless, being stuck in the stuffy old room with nothing to keep them busy. Flagg had brought them food earlier, a little better fare than earlier. After trying to eat her portion, Jessie just couldn't do it, once again giving what was left over to Erin. Margaret tried to coax her into eating more, but she didn't want to. Desperation was beginning to settle in, and it was eating at her resolve.

After Flagg had taken their dishes away, and they had settled in for another night of wondering what would happen, the door creaked open.

It was Frank. They hadn't seen him since Margaret was brought in. He looked awful, bruises on his face and one eye almost swollen shut.

"You look like hell, Frank. Flagg really kicked your ass, didn't he?"

He ignored her comment. "Margaret, I'm sorry he brought you into this. But, I'm going to get you out."

"What are you talking about, Frank?"

"He promised he would leave you alone! He did! But, he's not here, so I'm letting you go."

Margaret and Jessie looked at each other, then looked over at Erin, asleep on the bed.

"Why . . . why me? Why not all of us?"

But, he was on a mission. "I won't let him hurt you." He came at her so fast with a chloroform covered cloth the women didn't have time to react. Erin started crying softly as he drug Margaret from the room. Jessie held onto the girl as tight as she dared, for the first time accepting that they probably wouldn't get out of this mess alive.

*************************************

Sidney rushed into his study unannounced.

"They've found Margaret!"

Charles jumped up so fast, he almost spilled his drink. Staying drunk seemed to help. "_What_? Where?"

"Someone dumped her off at the hospital. She's fine, but angry as a bear."

"Jess . . ."

Sidney shook his head. "No sign of her or Erin. But, if we hurry, we can talk to her at the hospital. B.J. said he'd meet us there."

Charles didn't hesitate, reaching for his jacket.

***********************************

The police had finally left Margaret's room after questioning her profusely.

_No, I didn't know where I was. Because I was drugged. Why else would I not know? Yes, it was Frank Burns. And Flagg. Yes, they had Jessie and Erin. They were both alive when I left. No, there had been no violence towards us, but Frank looked like he had been run over by a train. No, I don't know why he let me go and not the others. They're not exactly the sharpest tacks in the box._

Hawkeye was allowed to stay with her during the questioning, watching her with brooding eyes from across the room as she curtly answered all of their questions. He had arrived at the airport the same time as a distraught B.J., wife and baby daughter in tow. They had immediately been informed that Margaret had reappeared mysteriously at the hospital. Trapper had met them there, telling them in hushed tones about the attempted abduction of one of his children, and Jessie's disappearance.

Sidney and Charles arrived as the police were leaving.

"Margaret! Boy, it's good to see you!" Sidney took both of her hands in his. "You look divine for a woman who has just been unceremoniously dumped in front of a hospital."

Charles nodded at B.J. and Hawkeye, all he could manage at this point.

_Why couldn't it have been Jessamyn?_

It was selfish, he knew. But, he couldn't take much more of this.

B.J. practically fell over himself to get to Margaret. "How is she, Margaret? Is she safe, fed, warm, scared?"

Peg put her hand on her husband's arm. "Now, B.J. Margaret's had quite a scare."

B.J. seemed to be in a sudden panic. "Don't you understand! He's got my daughter!"

Tears came to Peg's eyes. "I know that, honey. She's mine, too. Remember? And what about Dr. Winchester?"

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just . . . been a long couple of days, that's all." He kissed her apologetically on the cheek.

Margaret cleared her throat. "Erin's fine, a little scared. But, Jess has made it her life's mission for the child not to be scarred by this whole ordeal. We've been amusing her with stories about you."

"Clean ones, I hope," Hawkeye drawled from her bedside.

She elbowed him in the chest. "Of course! What do you take us for?"

Charles cleared his throat, trying to clear the lump that had formed. _She was alive!_ "Is she . . . Does she . . ."

Margaret smiled at him. "She's OK, considering. Having Erin there has kept her occupied."

Charles nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Were they taking care of you, Margaret? Food? Water?" Sidney asked.

Margaret made a face. "Not exactly gourmet cuisine. But, a little here and there."

"Oh, my poor baby! I know she was hungry!"

"Please, B.J.! She ate all of her portion, plus most of Jessie's. Jessie couldn't eat it herself, so she . . ."

"She did _what_?" Charles sudden outburst startled them all. "How could she? She knows she has to keep her strength up!"

B.J. was immediately in his face, Peg tugging on his arm to calm him. "She's keeping my daughter alive, Charles! That should be worth something! But, I wouldn't expect you to understand!"

"Why is that? Do you own the market in compassion now?"

B.J. was almost out of his mind. "Erin's my daughter! My own flesh and blood! There's no comparison! You can find another wife, but my child cannot be replaced!"

"_B.J.!"_ Peg said, hands on her hips.

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't form any words around the lump in his throat. After one final glare, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

B.J. made a move to go after him. "He's only worried about his own wife. Not you or Erin or anyone. But himself! That . . ."

Margaret whistled through her teeth to get his attention. "B.J.! She's pregnant!"

They all turned to look at her, except Sidney, who was watching the entire exchange quietly.

"Huh?"

Peg's hand went to her mouth. "Oh, the poor man! He's got both his wife and child! B.J., how could you say such things to him?"

B.J. ran his hand over his head, mussing his hair, realizing what he had done. The idea was almost unfathomable. "Dear God!" was all he could manage.

*******************************

Charles had never paid the little chapel much attention. It dealt with religion and believing in things unseen, something he couldn't quite comprehend. But tonight, he needed all the comfort he could get.

Thankfully, it was empty this time of night. He stood in the doorway, the lighted cross mutely illuminating the quiet room, wondering what to do. Slowly, he made his way to the front pew and sat down heavily, putting his head in his hands.

_She's not getting out of this alive, Charles, and you know it. You'll never have a chance to redeem yourself_.

What about the child? From what Margaret had said, he gathered she couldn't continue much longer in her current situation.

There could be other children. If she survived.

_But, he wanted this one._

Suddenly, he didn't care if she still hated him or not. He just wanted her to be OK, to make it out of Flagg's crazy world unscathed. He would grovel on his hands and knees if he had to, but he would make her understand how much he still loved her. Forget his job, children, everything. All he wanted was to have her back.

For the first time in a long time, he prayed, begging God to bring her home.


	47. Chapter 47

The man babbled to himself as he sat at the bar, nursing a drink. Martene studied him as she sipped her own across the room. The poor guy looked like he had lost a fight to a much larger man, that's for sure.

She turned to stare out the window when he caught her looking. The hospital lights gleamed through the darkness, casting shadows on the cars and people bustling about. She had spent the day being briefed by the nursing staff on new surgical procedures, even using a well-deserved vacation as a learning tool. Charles's absence was duly noted, and most of the staff whispered to each other behind closed doors about this horrible thing that had happened. From what she could gather, Charles was not a staff favorite, but his wife has well-liked by everyone.

_Poor, dear Charles_.

She smelt him before she saw him settle in her booth across from her. "Look like you could use some company."

Martene tried not to cringe. "No thank you. Just relaxing after a long day."

His beady eyes gleamed. "Oh, you're German."

This time, she did flinch. "No, French."

He gestured towards the imposing structure. "I used to be a doctor. Had my own practice, too."

She had a hard time believing this unkept creature in front of her was a physician. "Really? Do you still practice?"

He hiccupped and waved for another drink. "Nope. Not since my wife left me for one of those lawyers. But you know what I say? Nerts, to her!"

Her mind tried to think of a way to get rid of this drunken stranger. "Well, _Doctor_, I hope you don't mind, but I want to be alone."

He sloshed his drink when he sat it down. "That's all you women want to do. Be left alone. Margaret wanted to be left alone. My wife did, too." He tried to sip his drink, but it sloshed down his shirt. "Well, if you knew what I've done, that I'm a big shot, you wouldn't treat me like that."

"It looks to me like all you've done was lose a fist fight."

He waved his hand, spilling more of his drink, moving closer. The fumes on his breath made her cringe. "You want to know what it is? That I've done?"

Martene backed away, looking around for help. No one was paying them much attention. "Not particularly."

He ignored here comment. "I'm a kidnapper," he whispered conspiriously. "But don't tell anyone."

She seriously doubted any claim this man made in his drunken stupor. "Kidnapping, huh? Sounds serious."

He looked left then right and leaned closer. "You got that right, sister. Still got two of them under lock and key, too."

Warning bells went off. 'The Revenge of the Kidnappers', as the local media had dubbed it, was everywhere she looked. Now, one of them might be right in front of her! Her mind raced, wondering what to do. She had to keep this guy talking! She leaned closer to him, despite the smell, eyeing a cluster of police officers at a booth nearby. "Really? How . . . um exciting. What are you going to do with them?"

He shrugged. "It's not me to decide. It's Fl – my partner. But, I think he wants to kill them. In front of their loved ones, too. Despicable business, really."

Martene feigned indifference. "I don't know . . ."

"It's the truth! I even let one of them go. Margaret doesn't deserve him, never did. But, I wouldn't see her killed. Maybe even hurt!"

It _was_ him! She couldn't believe it! She pat him on the cheek. "I must run to the ladies' room, but please, stay right here. I find your profession . . . fascinating."

She left him looking pleased with himself. With his back to her, he didn't notice her stop at the table full of police officers briefly before walking out the back door.

*********************************************

Sidney ground his teeth in frustration.

_Where was he?_

Martene had barged her way into Margaret's room long after Charles had left, breathlessly telling them what she knew. After contacting the police department, Sidney had learned that Frank had sung like a bird when the cops confronted him. The rescue operation was already in full swing. B.J. had whooped with joy and kissed his wife before sprinting out the door. Hawkeye and Sidney had been looking for Charles ever since. He wasn't responding to pages from the front desk, he wasn't in his office, he wasn't anywhere.

Sidney stopped in front of the chapel door and shrugged. Hell, even Winchester might seek guidance at a time like this. When he opened the door quietly, he spotted Charles sitting on the front pew, staring into space.

"Winchester! They've found her!" His voice echoed in the empty room.

Charles looked at him dumbly for a moment. "You can't be serious!"

"As a heart attack!" He motioned for Charles to follow him. "I'll tell you about it on the way over!"

Charles didn't have to be told twice.

***********************************

The cramping started long after Erin had fallen asleep for the night. It wasn't terribly painful, almost resembling menstrual cramps.

_Some cramping is normal. Isn't it?_

She honestly didn't know. But she wished Margaret was there to ask.

_Where did he take her? Will they be found? What would happen if they were rescued?_

Jessie knew she had to calm down. Sleep. Eat more. But, it was so hard to know when she didn't know if Flagg was going to take them for the next part of his plan. As far as Jessie knew, he didn't even realize Margaret was gone. No one had been up there since Frank had drug her out the door.

She rolled over onto her side, trying to ease the discomfort.

_You can do this, Jess. Just relax. You've got to calm down_.

She was almost asleep when the noise started. First, there was a loud crash, then yelling. Erin woke with a start and reached for her, terrified.

When a shotgun blast blew a hole through the floor, Jessie reacted. With Erin in her arms, she ran to a small closet and shut them inside. Huddling on the floor with the dust bunnies, she clutched Erin to her, trying to make soothing noises to calm them both as the yelling and shooting continued.

Suddenly, there was nothing but silence. Jessie didn't dare move.

*********************************

There were police cars and emergency vehicles everywhere. It was almost as bad as the night he arrived home to find his world turned upside down.

They were in a section of Boston unfamiliar to him. The urban part of town, complete with its abandoned townhouses and empty factories. Just the sight of the boarded-up buildings and trash-coated sidewalks made his skin crawl.

All he knew was he was oh so close to having her back.

If she wasn't dead already.

Charles left Sidney's car before it even stopped moving, trying to make sense of the organized chaos around them. Some of the officers barked orders into radios, while still others marched around in some sort of turnout gear and rifles.

All the attention was focused on one sad-looking duplex, lights burning throughout. Police officers were going and coming from inside, some taking photos, others ambling about. A small crowd had gathered and a few were trying to keep onlookers at bay.

Charles spotted B.J. and his wife arguing with one of them. Since B.J. obviously wasn't having any luck, Charles frantically looked about, searching for someone who could help him find her.

*******************************

Jessie could hear footsteps on the hallway. Several men, not just one or two. She clutched Erin to her tighter, praying with all her might as the little girl whimpered.

She could hear them jiggle the handle, then someone kicked the door, succeeding in opening it after a couple of tries.

Jessie didn't know if they were friend or foe, but she sure as hell wasn't going to make her presence known.

She heard them walking about the room, searching.

"Mrs. Winchester? Erin Hunnicutt?"

_Now, just because they know we're here doesn't mean they're the good guys._

Erin had such a tight grip around her neck that she could feel the little girl's body trembling. Wanting to give her words of comfort, but not wanting to give away where they were, Jessie just rocked her back and forth.

_They're going to look in the closet, Jess. You know that_.

The footsteps came closer. The door creaked open.

"Mrs. Winchester?"

Jessie squinted her eyes against the flashlight beam.

"Hey! I've found them! They're alive!"

She shielded her face, catching sight of the badges they all wore.

She wept as they helped her from the closet floor, Erin refusing to let her go.

******************************

"Find out anything?"

Sidney startled him so badly, he almost yelled aloud.

"No." Charles thought about rushing through the barrier, demanding to see for himself what was going on inside. One officer had been no help, claiming the scene had not been secured, whatever the hell that meant. Charles did manage to pry out of him that no one had been found just yet, aside from Flagg, of course.

_What if Flagg moved her? If she were there, wouldn't she have called out to them by now? That means she's . . ._

Charles was gripping the metal barrier so hard that it bit into his hands. He didn't even notice as he desperately scanned the crowd going in and out the front door.

*****************************

They helped her down a back stairway and out the backdoor, claiming Flagg was in the front part of the house surrounded by officers. They didn't want him to see that his prisoners had been taken away, afraid he'd make a scene. One of them offered her his jacket, which she gratefully wrapped around her shoulders. Her mind numb, she allowed herself to be led around the townhouse, not even curious to see where she had been held.

Seeing Jessie's obvious fatigue, one of the officers coaxed Erin out of her arms, convincing her with a teddy bear to let him hold her. Vastly relieved to be empty handed.

When they walked around the corner, the flashing police lights made her a little dizzy, and she held onto the officer's arm for support.

"Mrs. Winchester? Are you OK?"

"Yes . . . yes, I'm fine. I just want to go home."

*******************************

Charles had had enough.

"I _demand_ to see someone in charge!"

"Sir, we're doing the best we can. These things take time . . ."

"_Time_? We've been standing here for what seems like an eternity! My _wife_ is in there! I've got to know if she's OK!"

"We will update you as soon as we know something, sir."

"Charles?"

Charles brushed Sidney off. "My taxes pay your salary, and I demand to see your superior _right now_!"

"Charles!"

"What?" he barked at Sidney.

Sidney pointed. "Look."

Charles looked up just in time to see Erin run into her sobbing mother's arms. B.J. cried openly, enveloping his family in his arms.

But, he didn't see much more of the reunion.

Not even noticing the officer protesting as he roughly shoved him aside, Charles barged through the barriers.

*************************

Jessie managed a small smile as she watched Erin reunite with her parents. It still hadn't quite registered that they were safe. She could go home!

Or to whatever home she had left to go home to.

Her mind was so numb, she didn't hear her name being called at first.

When she caught sight of Charles, all anger she had felt towards him over the last couple of days vanished away. With a small cry, she ran to him, meeting him halfway. She was sobbing before she fell into his arms.

He clutched her to him. He had so much to tell her, but all he could so was cry along with her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry! Forgive me, please for God's sakes, forgive me!" He didn't wait for her to reply, just continued. Once he started talking, he couldn't stop. "She doesn't mean anything to me, I swear. I lost my job and didn't want you to know. I shouldn't have. I should have told you! God, I should have told you!" He pulled her away from him, putting his hands on either side of her cheeks, damp with tears.

"Please, please oh please tell me you forgive me."

Jessie nodded mutely, everything he said not quite registering. "Charles, I'm . . . I'm pregnant."

His eyes welled up again. "I know, I know. You're going to be just fine now. You and the baby." He clutched her to him again, enfolding her into his arms. Jessie buried her face into his jacket, calming as his familiar scent surrounded her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Flagg being led away. The last thing she saw before she buried her face in Charles's chest was the glare he gave in their direction.

But, the pain shot through the numbness, almost taking her breath away.

"Charles?"

He still clutched her, not ever wanting to let her go. "What is it, baby?"

"Charles, something's . . . something's wrong . . ." Another pain, this one worse. She tensed, almost doubling over. She could feel herself falling, falling into the darkness, Charles calling her name seeming so far away. Then, there was nothing.

******************************

ONE more chapter! Just one! Believe it or not!


	48. Chapter 48

He heard her gasp, knowing something was wrong. He slid to the ground with her, his mind a swirling mass of confusion.

"Jess! Jessamyn!"

She didn't respond, just lay white and still in his arms.

Automatically, he checked her quickly for wounds, but found none.

_Damn it, what's wrong? Maybe she just fainted for all the excitement. _

It hit him.

He gathered her up, almost turning directly into Sidney.

"Get to your car. Now," Charles ordered.

Sidney complied, clearing the way.

Charles sat with her in the backseat, still grasping her tightly with one arm. With the other, he brushed her hair out of her face, surprised when her eyes fluttered open.

He gave her a wobbly smile, trying to be optimistic for her sake. "Come on, Jessamyn. Stay with me now."

She whispered something. He leaned in closer to hear.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry. I tried . . . tried so hard . . . for the baby. I'm sorry," she whispered faintly.

"No. None of this is your fault." He could feel the tears start again. "I should have been there. I could have stopped him."

Jessie managed to shake her head. "No. Not your fault, either."

He shifted to let her get more comfortable. His arm felt sticky. In the darkness of the cab, he realized it was her blood.

_Will this nightmare ever end?_

"Sidney!"

Sidney's eyes met his in the rearview mirror. He gunned the engine, speeding through a deserted intersection while the light was on red.

************************************

B.J. had seen what had happened and told the officer in charge to radio ahead to the hospital. They had a full staff of doctors and nurses waiting when Sidney jumped the curb, getting as close as he dared to the door of the hospital.

Charles didn't want to let her go. He followed the gurney through the hallway, still clutching her hand. When they reached the trauma room, one of the ER doctors wouldn't let him enter.

"She's my wife! I'll stay with her if I damn well want to!"

"It's hospital policy. No family in the trauma room. You know that, Dr. Winchester."

"But . . ."

"Charles?"

He didn't know she was awake, the nurses hooking her up to IVs and equipment. "Charles, I'll be fine. Just go."

"But . . ."

One of the nurses gingerly led him from the room. Jessie lay back on the pillow after he was gone, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands as they began examining her.

Charles numbly stared at the door they had shut in his face. He could faintly hear the activity inside. None of the training, schooling and experience as a doctor prepared him for this. Leaving his wife alone to face the hands of strangers as she miscarried their child.

Absently, he looked down at his arm, his shirt splotched with blood.

Instantly, he was taken back to Korea. He watched her step in front of the gun, his heart in his throat, unable to say a word. He was halfway to her before she had fallen to the ground.

Then - he had saved her.

Now - he could do nothing.

With a cry of frustration, he hit the wall with his fist, the pain in his arm momentarily easing the pain in his heart.

Sidney found him sitting on the floor next to her room, leaning heavily on the wall, his arms propped on his knees.

"They won't let me in, Sidney."

Sidney shrugged. "Probably for the best."

He opened one eye. "I've operated on her before. Successfully, might I add."

"She wasn't your wife then. You're too emotionally involved."

"I was too emotionally involved last time, and it didn't hinder me."

"She wasn't carrying your child then, either."

Charles ran a hand over his face, once again the reminder of her pregnancy shocking him into silence.

"Everyone's in the waiting room."

"Everyone?"

"Sure. Margaret, Hawkeye, B.J. Peg took Erin to your house, I think. Your family. I think Jessie's brother finally showed up, and he's raising hell with the on-duty nurse."

Charles cringed. Johnny could be extremely temperamental when it came to the well-being of his sisters.

"Let us know when you hear something."

"I . . . I will."

Sidney turned to walk down the hallway.

"Sidney?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"No problem."

*********************************

Bone weary, Charles pushed through the double doors. Although in various stages of sleep, everyone instantly awakened.

"It's about damn time!" Johnny exclaimed. "What did the doctor say?"

Charles felt like he had been run through the ringer. "She'll be OK."

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Margaret said.

"What about the baby?" his mother asked.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "They got . . . the bleeding stopped, and they have her heavily sedated. But, . . . everything seems to be . . . satisfactory. For now. She's going to have to stay in bed for awhile. Just to make sure."

There were congratulations all around, the relief plain on everyone's face.

"So, when can we see her?" Johnny asked, fidgeting.

"They're putting her in a room now. But, she won't be awake for awhile."

"Fine. I'll just call home and update everyone. Then, I expect to see my sister, awake or not!"

"B-boy, h-he can b-b-be as demanding as you," Honoria said from his side.

Charles didn't notice his sister's attempt at levity. He was too busy worrying about his wife.

**********************************

The machines beeping and hummed softly, almost putting him to sleep. He hadn't gotten much sleep over the past 24 hours, not to mention the fear and anger that had worried him to exhaustion while she was missing. So far, she hadn't awakened, due to the sedation to keep her still. The bleeding had not returned, thank God. Now, it was a waiting game.

He shifted in the uncomfortable chair near her bedside, watching her chest rise and fall. Due to severe dehydration, she had an IV in one arm. Her doctor was a younger one, and he haughtily informed Charles that she needed to take better care of herself, although he was fully aware of the ordeal she had been through. Charles wanted to throttle him with his bare hands. He hoped he wasn't that condescending with his own patients.

He was afraid he was.

Charles rose stiffly and walked to the window. It was almost dawn and a light drizzle was falling. He wanted her to wake up, so he had a chance to fully redeem himself, to make her understand. He wasn't even sure she would remember his hurried apologies before she passed out. He didn't know where he stood with her, and that ate at his soul.

Wearily, he returned to his post, refusing to leave her side since they put her in this room. He slept there when he could, which certainly wasn't comfortable. But, he wanted the first person she saw when she awoke to be him. The only food he had was whatever someone brought to him. He ate it automatically without tasting it, only to keep up his strength. All he had to do was wait.

The door opened slowly, the light from the hallway making him squint.

"How's she doing?" Martene asked.

"The same," Charles whispered. "She's been off the sedatives for awhile, but . . . she hasn't wakened as of yet."

"She's been through very much. Perhaps her body needs time to recover."

"Perhaps."

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I don't." He paused. "Well, maybe something?"

Martene was eager to help. "Anything. You name it."

"I want to ask your forgiveness. For how harsh I was in the bar . . ."

She waved her hand. "Oh, that. Don't worry about it. I can't understand what you were going through, so I didn't hold it against you."

"I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't run across Burns. It . . ." Tears formed, and he impatiently wiped them away, continuing in a stronger voice. "Thank you."

She smiled softly. "You're welcome. Now, why don't you let me stay for awhile. You look like you could use a break."

He shook his head. "No. I want to be here when she wakes up."

"But, look at you! You haven't shaved in what looks like three days, and you still have on your bloody clothes from the night she was found. Frankly, you look like shit."

"Gee, Martene. You always had a way with words."

"Don't get smart with me, mister! You don't even have to leave the hospital! There are showers here, and you can get you something to eat while you're at it. No, go!"

She settled in a chair in the corner. "We'll be right here when you get back."

Actually, a shower _did_ sound appealing. Clean clothes would be wonderful, too. Knowing he had lost, he stood up with a groan. "Fine. But, I won't be long."

Martene pulled out a book. "Take all the time you want. I have a stack of these journals I need to catch up on, and this gives me a wonderful opportunity."

"If anything changes . . ."

"You'll be the first to know. I promise!"

The on-call nurse was surprised to see Charles leave the room.

***********************************

Jessie had been floating on the edge of consciousness. She knew Charles had been there, and she wanted to squeeze his hand or speak or something to ease his mind, but she couldn't make her body respond.

_What in the hell did they give me?_

She caught snatches of conversations between Charles and guests and the hospital staff, but she couldn't quite grasp the meaning of it all.

When she finally did come awake fully, the first thing she saw was dim sunlight shining through the clouds outside her window. Her memories, fuzzy around the edges, came immediately into focus when she saw Martene across the room, deep into a stack of books.

'What are you doing here?' she wanted to yell. But all that came out was a croak. Martene looked up and smiled.

"Welcome back."

Jessie was in no mood to be civil. "Where's Charles?" she whispered.

Martene sat down her book. "He stepped out for awhile to freshen up and eat. You've been out for awhile, and he hasn't left your side once. So, I finally talked him into taking a break." She walked to the door and motioned for the nurse, then returned to Jessie's side.

"You're not going to smother me with a pillow, are you?" Her voice was stronger.

Martene's laughter was catching, and Jessie found herself managing a small smile as well. "I'm glad you bring that up. I wanted you to know that Charles had nothing to do with that episode in his office. I threw myself at him, unaware that he was now married."

It seemed like such a long time ago. Jessie tried to reach up and rub her eyes, but the machines she was hooked up to held her arms at bay.

"He told me. After I was rescued. I think." Jessie reached for the remote that controlled the bed and started to push the button to elevate her head. Martene stopped her before she could raise it too much. "Now, now, Jess. You don't want the bleeding to start again." Martene reached around her and start fluffing pillows.

_Bleeding? I wasn't shot. Was I?_

_The baby!_

"Did I . . .? What happened . . .? What about . . ." She was almost afraid to ask.

Martene touched her cheek. "Oh, honey, the baby's fine. Just a little scare, that's all. Once they got some fluid in you, everything perked right up. But, you'll have to be careful."

Jessie felt a tear run down her cheek.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Yes. Charles."

Martene chuckled. "I'm working on that. They're paging him right now. What about something to eat?"

Actually, food sounded pretty good. For the first time in several weeks, she could think about eating and not fight nausea.

"That would be great!"

************************************

Charles knew he shouldn't have, but the couch in his office looked so inviting. He had finished with his shower and was looking for a clean pair of socks in his office. Instead, he stretched out on the couch, telling himself it was just for a few minutes.

Before he realized it, a nurse was shaking his arm. "Dr. Winchester? Dr. Winchester?"

"What?" he mumbled, his mind jumbled.

"We've been paging you for 20 minutes!"

"For God sakes, why?" Then, it hit him. He stood up so fast that the poor nurse seemed startled.

"It's . . . your wife."

"My God, is everything OK?" He started hunting for his shoes, finally finding them under his desk. Without waiting for an answer, he rushed from the room.

_Why, oh why did I leave her? What happened while I was gone?_

When he finally made it to the correct floor – damn those slow elevators! – he dashed down the hallway, bursting through the door to her room.

He almost wept with relief when he saw her, propped up by mounds of pillows. And eating, too! She was laughing softly at something Martene had said, a sandwich in one hand and a drink in the other. Startled at his abrupt entrance, she immediately sat down her food.

"Where have you been?" she asked softly. "They've been paging you for . . ."

"I fell asleep in my office." He closed the distance between them. "I wanted to be here when you woke up. I'm sorry I wasn't. Actually . . ." he took a deep breath. "There's so much to apologize for. He reached out and smoothed her hair from her face.

Jessie reached for him, and he wrapped his arms around her carefully, not daring to hold her as hard as he wanted.

"I love you. You're going to be a father."

The tears started to fall in earnest, and he buried his face in her hair. "I . . . I know. I hope I'm ready for it."

"You'll be a wonderful father."

Neither one of them noticed Martene leave, softly shutting the door behind her.

********************************

It is done. There is no more. Say goodnight, Gracie. And, see, that wasn't so bad, after all? However, I will start posting a crossover fic soon. _Dukes of Hazzard_ believe it or not. It'll pick up something like 20 years after this, but focus more on one of their children (out of 4).

I know I led you on at first and everyone thought Radar would win in the end. And it started it out with that in mind. I swear! But, I kept drifting in the other direction. You know how it goes. It seems to take a life of its own after a certain point.

And because I promised _and_ because all of you have been so wonderfully kind and awesome and stuff like that, I'll post my alternate ending to this tomorrow. Probably will be in a slight rough format, but hey, if it'll make the masses happy, it's worth it. Once again, thanks for reading! - tonygirl


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